The Mediator: Revealed (Book 8)
by Sassylou
Summary: Post-Remembrance. DO NOT READ if you haven't read Proposal (novella) or Remembrance (both published this year). This will contain MAJOR SPOILERS for both. You have been warned. This is my spin on what happens after the wedding. Can Suze and Jesse have a normal married life? Or will the undead once again intrude?
1. Uno

**Hey, guys. So I decided to do another Mediator fanfiction, since Meg Cabot just released another book in the series! (and a novella). Please, please, please don't read this story if you haven't read Proposal or Remembrance. There will be major spoilers in here. And I mean, MAJOR. I absolutely loved Remembrance. I thought it was amazing, and so of course I had to write more about Suze and Jesse. This story is set about a year after the ending of Remembrance. If you haven't read it, please do. But you should totally read the novella Proposal first. Good stuff. I couldn't believe Meg Cabot was doing more in the series after so many years. It was a very happy surprise. I don't know if she's going to do anymore, or if that's where she's officially ending the series. I kind of hope she does more, but it ended pretty well. Then again, I thought Twilight had ended pretty well. So here's my take on what might happen after Remembrance. And guys, I'm really serious about the spoilers. There were some intense things revealed in Remembrance. So don't read this unless you've read that one first.**

* * *

I hated feeling sick.

The only thing that was worse than feeling sick was crying, and unfortunately, I'd been doing a lot of both of those things lately. At least I wasn't actually throwing up – for now. I just felt like I was going to nearly every minute of the day.

I poured myself a glass of ginger ale and slowly drank it. The girls had just finished their mediator lesson for the day. I was amazed at their quick learning. Then again, Paul had always been intelligent and they were genetically his daughters. I was sure that the girls were more than just your average mediator. They were probably shifters, as Paul liked to call us. It would definitely make sense. At least they hadn't seemed to have inherited any of his questionable personality traits. They were good little girls, most of the time. They tried to be, anyway. And they loved the idea of helping ghosts to find their way to the other side.

"Aunt Suze," a young voice said.

I looked down. Cottontail – my own personal nickname for one of my three stepnieces – was watching me intently. I hadn't even heard her come in to the kitchen. "What?" I asked, more harshly than I'd intended. But I really didn't feel good. It was making me more cranky than usual.

"Are you okay? You look terrible."

Kids. They're so brutally honest these days. "Thanks, Elizabeth," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I always made sure to call them by their actual names out loud. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail were just what I called them in my head. Just like I used to call my stepbrothers Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear, how terrible I look."

She shrugged, though she didn't really look sorry. "You do. Are you sick?"

I sighed. "Yes. I am."

"Mommy is sick a lot."

"Yes, but your mommy has a baby in her tummy, and that's what's making her sick." Unsurprisingly, Debbie had gotten pregnant again. She still didn't believe in using birth control. I was actually surprised that she hadn't gotten pregnant again sooner. I think Brad was going to have surgery, so they couldn't get pregnant a third time. Debbie may have had a thing against pharmaceutical drugs, but Brad sure didn't. Even though he loved being a dad, he said four kids was enough. He didn't want more than that.

She was about four months along, but her morning sickness was still there. I didn't really like Debbie, but I actually did feel bad for her, being sick all the time.

Cottontail nodded. "Mommy says my baby brother makes her really sick."

At least she wasn't having another girl – or another set of multiples. Don't get me wrong, I loved all three of my stepnieces. But I did want at least one stepnephew. Sure, Jake and Gina were living together in Hollywood – Gina had just recently gotten a small role in an upcoming film, and Jake had opened a second location for Pot-Ential – but they weren't having kids anytime soon. I wasn't even sure if they ever would. And David…Well, the only way he was having any kids was if he adopted. And I didn't see that happening anywhere in the near future, since he and Shahbaz broke up three months ago. He wasn't seeing anybody seriously at the moment. So really, Brad and Debbie were my only hope for a stepnephew.

"That's what happens when there's a baby in a mommy's tummy," I said to Cottontail. This was starting to get a little awkward for me. I hoped she would get distracted soon and stop talking about pregnancies. I wasn't sure what her parents had told her or her sisters about the new baby. I definitely didn't want to say anything to contradict what they'd already told the kids. I'd never hear the end of it. "It makes her really sick."

She cocked her little head to the side, looking at my stomach critically. And still, I didn't anticipate her next question. I should have, though. I really should have. "Do _you_ have a baby in _your_ tummy, Aunt Suze? Is that why you're sick?" she demanded.

I nearly choked on my ginger ale. I was saved from having to answer that question by Mopsy and Flopsy yelling at each other in the front parlor. Relieved, I rushed in there – that was not a conversation I wanted to have with my stepniece. Talking about the complexities of pregnancy versus the flu with a seven-year-old was not my idea of fun, and it had long passed awkward.

So I was actually really relieved to have to break up a fight between two of the girls.

"Emma, Emily. Stop."

They both froze, and looked up at me. They each had a hand on a stuffed mermaid doll. Evidently, they'd been fighting over it and were on the verge of tearing it apart, it looked like. Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have given them each a chocolate bar on the way home from school. They'd been off the walls since they'd walked in the front door.

I put my hands on my hips and looked down sternly at them. "What are you two doing?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what they were doing.

"I was playing with Molly the Mermaid, and Emma stole her from me," Mopsy said immediately.

Flopsy shook her head. "Nuh-uh. _I_ had her first, and Emily stole her from _me_! And her name isn't Molly. It's Ariel, stupid!"

"You're stupid! Ariel has red hair. Molly has purple hair."

"I'm not stupid, you are!"

"No, you are!"

"Hey!" I hollered. I was not in the mood to take a more gentle approach. "That's enough. You can take turns playing with the mermaid doll, whatever her name is, on the way home. It's time for me to take you back to your mom."

The triplets groaned in unison. "We don't want to go home," Flopsy complained.

"Yeah," Mopsy added. "Mommy's cranky, because of the baby."

I didn't blame them for not wanting to be around their mother. Debbie was even more of a troll than usual. It didn't help that she was trying to get her college degree, too, so she was exhausted all the time, between her classes and her pregnancy and the triplets. Brad was getting a lot of crap from her, too, so he ended up working a lot of extra hours to escape his miserable wife. But he was a lot happier since he wasn't working for his father-in-law anymore. He actually really enjoyed being a cop. Sure, he had only been on the force for a few months now, but he loved it. It was the right career path for him, surprisingly. I never would have imagined _Brad_ as a _cop_.

"Sorry, girls," I said. "But our lesson's over for today, and I have to get you back home. Your mom is expecting you. She'll be mad if I don't get you home on time. Come on. Get your backpacks. And remember –"

"Don't tell anybody about the ghosts," the girls intoned. I've taught them well. I tried not to be too proud of that fact.

I nodded. "Right. That's because a lot of people think that ghosts are just pretend. And if you try to tell them that ghosts are real, they're going to think that you're crazy."

They giggled at that.

"But, Aunt Suze, how come only some people can see ghosts?" Flopsy wanted to know. "Why can't Mommy and Daddy? Or Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Jake and Uncle David?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, Emma. That's just the way it is. Some people can see them, and some people can't. In our family, the only people who can see them are you three, and me, and Uncle Jesse. That's it."

"Is that why you love Uncle Jesse?" Mopsy asked, giggling at her own question.

Lately, the triplets were very curious – and very amused – by anything that had to do with love. I shook my head. "That's one of the things that I love about Uncle Jesse. But there's a lot of other things I love about him. Now, stop asking me silly questions and get out to the car."

I quickly got the girls loaded up in my ancient Land Rover and started driving toward Brad and Debbie's house. I couldn't help but study the girls in the rearview mirror as I did. Now that I knew the truth about their father, I was constantly noticing little things that reminded me of Paul. Their love of money was one of the biggest similarities.

But it didn't make me – or Jesse, for that matter – love them any less. We had been a part of their lives since they were born. And I wasn't planning to ever tell Brad or Debbie the truth, not really. It was good to have the paternity test as blackmail against Paul, but I honestly hoped that I would never have to actually use it. The important thing was that he knew the truth. My leverage was the threat of telling everybody. Because if Debbie knew, she could milk Paul for all he was worth. Not only would he have to support one child, but he'd have to support three. So far, that threat was keeping him at bay. I hadn't heard a peep from him since his failed attempt – again – to get in my pants. He was wisely keeping his distance.

Besides, Brad loved those girls. I couldn't tell him the truth. He thought they were his. And he was actually a decent person to be around now that he had them in his life. He'd never been happier. And he was actually a really good dad.

I never thought Brad would be the first one to have kids, or that he'd be so good at raising them. But he did, and he was.

The girls were out of my car as soon as I put it in park in front of their house. "Don't forget to start your homework!" I called after them, as they pushed each other in their race to the front door.

All three of them made a face at that. They were smart girls, and didn't usually have any trouble with their homework, but that didn't mean that they enjoyed doing it.

I didn't get out of the car. I didn't feel like forcing myself through a conversation with Debbie. More than likely, she felt the same way. We didn't often see eye-to-eye. She'd been really grateful that I'd gotten the girls into a "special program" for gifted children – code for secret mediator lessons – even though she'd had to finally give in and get them vaccinated, but we were two very different people. We tried not to associate too much unless we had to. So instead, I watched the girls run into the house – loudly, of course – and then I left. I wanted to get an early start on my weekend.

Which meant going home, and soaking in a nice bubble bath.


	2. Dos

**Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Let me know what you think. Once again, as I say with all of my stories, please don't be just plain critical. I will gladly accept constructive criticism, as I know that my writing can always be improved. So if you notice something that feels a bit off, or you think could be a little better, go ahead and let me know. I love to hear from my readers! I'll try my best to keep everybody in character, but I will probably slip up on occasion. I'll try really hard not to. There were some things that I hadn't quite expected from certain characters in Remembrance.**

Saturday.

I loved Saturday. I didn't have to work, so I could sleep in as late as I wanted to. And Jesse usually worked at the hospital in the mornings, so I had the house to myself for a few hours. It would probably change once we opened our private practice – which would be ready in just a couple months – because Jesse and I would both we working on Saturday. We knew how hard it could be for some parents to get their kids to the doctor during the week, so we were planning to open a little later during the weekdays, which meant staying open a little later those same nights. And we were going to be open Saturday afternoons. Nine-thirty to six-thirty, Monday through Friday. And from one to six on Saturdays.

I loved the house. I was glad that Paul had given it to us – even if the taxes were a nightmare – and not just because having the deed in my name meant that it couldn't be torn down and make Jesse go all demonic. Well, that and the fact that it was now officially registered as a historic landmark. But this was where Jesse and I had fallen in love. Our story began in this very house.

Of course, it didn't look exactly the same as it had when I'd first lived here. I had decorated in darker colors than my mom had. And I'd kept all of the woodwork the same mahogany that was throughout the house. I'd definitely gone for comfort, though, when I'd chosen the furniture. Comfort and practicality. I'd thought about getting leather couches, but…

Well, Jesse and I would be having kids of our own before too long, and the triplets did spend a lot of time at our house. Leather wasn't the most durable when it came to kids.

I was curled up on the fluffy brown loveseat, watching a romantic comedy and drinking more ginger ale. A nearly empty package of saltine crackers sat on the coffee table. I'd been munching on them a bit. That had been the extent of my breakfast. CeeCee had called earlier and wanted to meet at the Happy Medium – she and Adam were on the outs again – but I wasn't feeling good at all. I'd already thrown up twice. I didn't want to push it. The last thing I wanted was to throw up in public.

Romeo was fast asleep on my shoulder, while Spike laid in the La-Z-Boy chair, watching my rat intently. Spike knew better than to try to eat him, but that didn't mean that he liked him or trusted him. They had a very uneasy coexistence.

Although, considering the fact that Romeo was already a little over a year old and rats only lived two to three years, and Spike was at least eight years and most tomcats lived about ten to twelve years, I didn't think we'd have either one of them for much longer. I'd never really had any pets in Brooklyn, and I'd never really bonded with Max. I didn't think it was going to devastate me too much when Spike passed, but Romeo...I'd rescued the poor little guy from the lab. I'd gotten attached to him, despite the fact that I wasn't supposed to.

The door opened, and then Jesse was sinking onto the sofa beside me. He looked tired. And he looked upset. Something must have happened at the hospital to upset him. I frowned. "Jesse? What happened?"

He sighed, but didn't answer. Instead, he frowned at the ginger ale and saltine crackers on the coffee table in front of me. "Are you still feeling sick, Susannah?"

"Yes."

"You've been sick for two weeks." Of course he would have been paying attention to exactly how long I'd been sick.

I rolled my eyes. "I work in a _school_ , Jesse. I'm surrounded by snot-nosed kids all day. It's not that surprising that I'm sick."

He rolled his own eyes. "And I work in a _hospital_ , Susannah," he countered. "I'm surrounded by the sick all day. Yet I am perfectly healthy."

"Only because you use antiseptic soap all day long," I muttered. He probably had to wash his hands about a hundred times a day. That smell seemed to be a permanent part of his scent. I personally found it an incredibly sexy smell.

"I'm worried about you. The influenza usually only lasts about a week. You might have something more serious."

I shook my head. I knew exactly what was wrong with me, and he was worrying for absolutely no reason. "There you go again, with your overprotective nineteenth-century macho man bullshit. It's nothing. I'm sure I'll be back to normal in a couple of days."

"That's what you said a couple of days ago. You should go see a doctor."

I smirked. "I'm seeing one right now. He's tall, Latino, sexy –"

"Susannah."

I scowled. "No. I hate doctors. You know how much I hate doctors. What happened today? Why are you upset?" It was an obvious subject-change, but I didn't care.

He sighed. Jesse didn't usually like to talk about things that upset him. Like I said, he was a macho man. He preferred to keep things to himself.

But sometimes, if he was really upset about something as I suspected he was now, I could coax the answers out of him. Slowly, I was getting him to understand that he shouldn't keep everything bottled up all the time.

Watching him, I thought he might be on the verge of telling me. "Jesse," I said, trying to keep my voice as soothing as I could. "How bad?"

"A patient died today," he finally admitted.

"I'm sorry." And I was. Jesse tried so hard to save all of his patients, so it always hit him hard when he lost one. It didn't happen very often.

"She wasn't technically my patient, not when she died. She'd been in the ICU for a while with pancreatic cancer. I wasn't the one treating her, but I was the one who'd missed the symptoms. If I'd referred her to the cancer specialist sooner…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Wait a minute." I had to try to stop this little pity party before it really took off. "Pancreatic cancer? Didn't you tell me once that pancreatic cancer is one of the worst cancers, because it's so hard to diagnose in time to do anything about it? The symptoms don't usually make themselves known until it's already too late." He'd been ranting against pancreatic cancer just before he'd gotten his official board-certification. It was one of the diseases that he hated the most, because very few patients survived it.

He clenched his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's no excuse, Susannah. I should have seen the signs. I was her primary care provider. But by the time she was diagnosed, it was too late to do surgery to take out the tumor."

"What about chemotherapy?" I asked. I knew that when surgery wasn't an option to remove a tumor, sometimes chemotherapy was.

"Her immune system was weak, so chemotherapy was risky. The cancer specialist advised against it. But the father wanted to go ahead with the treatment. Her only other option was death. The best that could be done for her was to make her comfortable. The cancer had spread too far and was too aggressive. She passed away about two hours ago, despite the chemotherapy. She was six, Susannah. She was only six."

I snuggled into Jesse's side, wrapping my arms around his waist. This movement jostled Romeo, but he went back to sleep almost immediately. He was a pretty easy-going little rat. "How did her parents handle it?" I asked quietly.

I couldn't imagine losing a child. It had been hard enough to lose my dad – even when I knew that I'd get to see him again. But to lose a child? To have to see a child's life cut so short? And this little girl was about the same age as my stepnieces. I couldn't imagine my own devastation if one of them died, let alone Brad and Debbie's devastation.

"Well, her mother is in prison, from what I understand," Jesse said. "I'm not sure who will tell her what happened. But her father was furious. He was angry with every staff member that worked with his daughter. But he was especially angry with me. I can't blame him, of course. It _was_ mostly my fault."

I punched his shoulder. Romeo squeaked at me, and then scurried across my shoulders to sit on Jesse's shoulder. "Don't say that. It was _not_ your fault, not even a tiny bit. _You_ didn't give her cancer."

"No, but I didn't recognize the signs soon enough. I didn't save her."

"Jesse, stop it. Seriously. I know you don't want to hear this, but you can't save them all. You are an amazing doctor. But you can't fix everything."

He didn't argue with me, but he didn't believe me, either. Not entirely. I could tell by the way he clenched his jaw and the tightness around his dark eyes. He was going to keep blaming himself for losing this patient.

"Hey," I said. Since I couldn't seem to get him entirely out of this funk, maybe I could at least distract him. "What are we doing for our anniversary tomorrow? We'll have officially made it through an entire year of marriage. Without going into financial ruin, to boot."

That got a tiny smile out of him. We'd done pretty well, financially. Jesse's grant had paid off most of his student loans – he was still paying the rest of them back, but he was able to afford the monthly payments – and then the building we were in the process of constructing for our private practice. On January fifth, the Carmel Pediatrics Center would officially be open. We weren't rolling in dough, but we were staying afloat. We had money for what we needed, with a little extra every month.

"I thought you didn't want to do anything extravagant," he reminded me.

"I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't want to do anything at all. Come on. What did you plan?"

He shook his head. "I'm not telling you. It's a surprise."

I batted my eyes at him. It never worked on Jesse, but I still had to try. "Please?" I begged. And then, because I thought it might get me some results, I added in Spanish, " _Por_ _favor_?" Even after all these years, I still sucked at Spanish. My accent was terrible, and I couldn't speak or understand it fluently.

Jesse was now trying not to laugh at me. I saw the teasing glint in his eyes and I immediately regretted switching languages. He knew how terrible I was, and he enjoyed using Spanish to taunt me. " _Su español sigue siendo terrible, y el puchero no a trabajar en mí. Buen intento, Susannah. Todavía no te lo diré._ "

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Other than the fact that you just totally insulted my Spanish, I didn't understand a word of that."

He smirked. " _Lo sé._ "

"Jerk," I muttered.

Jesse just laughed. At least he wasn't in a fit of self-hate anymore. I snuggled against him, though my stomach had started churning again. I tried to ignore it, hoping that my nausea would go away. I was excited – more excited than I thought I'd be – for our first anniversary. I'd never really considered myself a particularly romantic person. But the first year of marriage just seemed like a huge milestone. And I was excited to be able to celebrate that.

* * *

 **In case you're wondering, here's what Jesse said in Spanish (at least according to Google Translate):**

 ***Your Spanish is still terrible, and the pout doesn't work on me. Nice try, Susannah. I still won't tell you.**

 ***I know.**

 **I realize, of course, that Google Translate probably isn't 100% accurate. I can't speak a word of Spanish, so my only resource is the Internet, as unreliable as it is. If it's wrong, I'm sorry. I do the best I can with what I've got. If anybody knows of any free translation sites that are better, let me know. I'd be happy to use them.**


	3. Tres

Since it was our anniversary, I went to mass with Jesse. I still wasn't much of a believer, but my husband was.

Husband! Even a year later, I enjoyed that word. Especially since my husband? Yeah, he was amazing.

And the sex was even more amazing.

Anyway, I went to mass with him, where we were congratulated repeatedly on our first wedding anniversary. And while I appreciated everyone's well wishes, I was more than relieved to get back home. We didn't get out of there until nearly an hour after mass was over.

I tossed my purse on the sofa as soon as we walked into the house and turned to Jesse. I slipped my arms around his waist and looked up at him. I was wearing my more sensible flats, so I was at a slight height disadvantage. "What do you say we go up to our bedroom and do a little celebrating?" I whispered seductively.

Jesse kissed me, hard, nearly knocking me over with the intensity of his kiss. Then he pulled away. "I say we eat first. It's nearly seven."

I groaned. "Who needs food? I have _other_ hungers that are demanding to be fed."

He kissed me again, but only for a moment. "And they will," he promised. "But I want to eat first."

"Damn," I said. Only I didn't actually say _damn_. I said my _other_ favorite four-letter word.

Jesse calmly pointed to the nearly full swear jar – he'd insisted on it three months into our marriage because I apparently had an extremely filthy mouth. And Gina had been more than willing to share her solution. Funny, he didn't seem to mind my filthy mouth when I used it in the bedroom. "Five dollars," he said.

As if I didn't know how much an F-bomb cost me.

I stuck my tongue out at his back – he was checking the roast he'd put in the crockpot this morning – as I dug a five out of my wallet.

"Don't, Susannah."

"Don't what?"

"Don't act so childish."

"Me, childish?" I asked innocently.

Jesse just rolled his eyes as he filled two plates. He put those on a serving tray, added two glasses, and a bottle of wine. "Um," I said, "I think I'll just have some ginger ale."

He looked at me sharply. "You're declining wine? You never decline wine."

"I do when my stomach is churning."

Jesse's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You told me this morning that you were feeling fine."

I grabbed the half-empty bottle of ginger ale from the fridge. "When I told you that this morning, I _was_ feeling fine. Now I'm not. I don't want to push it, so I'll just stick with ginger ale for tonight."

"Susannah." He was suspicious. He knew something was going on. But I had absolutely no intention of telling him. Not yet.

I sighed. "One glass probably won't hurt. I'm only feeling a little nauseous." He was still watching me. "Come on, Jesse. It's our anniversary. Let's not spend it arguing about something so silly. It's just wine."

"All right," he said in defeat. He picked up the tray and grinned slightly. "Picnic on the roof?" he asked.

That made me smile. We had spent so many hours on the porch roof of this house when Jesse was an NCDP – non-compliant deceased person. It was still one of our favorite places to spend time.

"Definitely." I followed him to our bedroom, and from there to the roof.

We watched the sky as we ate. And then we just sat there and talked. We actually didn't get many chances to just sit and talk, so it was kind of nice. We stayed on that roof for several hours, enjoying the solitude. I would have liked to go inside and mess around for a little while, too, but I actually kind of liked just sitting there. It was quiet and peaceful. This whole year had been pretty quiet and peaceful, actually, now that I thought about it. Which was very unusual for my life - not that I was complaining. There had been a few NCDPs every now and then, of course, but nothing major since Lucia. No member of the undead had attempted to murder us, so that was good.

I hadn't heard a word from Paul since our wedding day, when he'd sent us the paperwork about the house being a historical landmark. He didn't ever ask about the triplets and how their mediator lessons were going. He didn't want anything to do with them. Honestly, I hoped it stayed that way. They had Brad, who was a better father than Paul could ever be. Anybody would be better off without Paul in their lives.

Andy and my mom were still in Los Angeles, and Andy's show was doing as well as ever. Mom still tried – half-heartedly – to convince me and Jesse to move to L.A. She never really put much effort into it, not since we got the house here in Carmel. She seemed to realize that I was incredibly attached to this home. I knew that it surprised her, considering my intense hatred of old buildings. She didn't understand what it was about this house that I loved so much. And I didn't plan on telling her. Ever.

Jake and Gina were pretty happy together. I still didn't know what had happened in Hollywood the first time Gina had lived there, but she was back in the famous city and happy. And Jake's business was doing well enough that he'd been able to open that second location. He was getting ridiculously rich. They'd taken Max with them, but we weren't sure how much longer the ancient dog was going to last.

Brad was now a successful cop. Not only was he successful at it, he enjoyed it. Even though he worked a lot of graveyard shifts. And Debbie was getting a degree in liberal studies, which I thought was a pretty useless area to focus on, but whatever. They had a son on the way, and three daughters already. They were doing pretty well and were happy, most of the time. They did fight a lot, but what couple didn't?

Then there was David. He was now a senior at Harvard. He told me that he was interested in studying mediators more closely. He was probably one of the few scientific minds in the world who actually believed in mediators and ghosts. Who knows, maybe he would be the one to crack the code on how the mediator gene was passed on. He'd probably be able to run some decent tests with the triplets, if I ever told him that they were mediators, too. But that would require me telling him that Brad wasn't their biological father, and I was never going to do that. That probably meant that I'd have to let him run some tests on me at some point, but whatever. It'd be nice to know just how the mediator gene was passed on. I was even more convinced now that it had something to do with genetics, after seeing the triplets. They'd obviously gotten it from Paul, who might have gotten it from his grandfather.

And Jesse and I were doing great. I was officially certified as a counselor, with my master's degree. I was finally done with school. Jesse was an officially licensed pediatrician. Our own private practice would be open soon, and then we'd be able to start seeing our own patients. There _was_ the little secret I was keeping from Jesse, but it wasn't a _bad_ secret. Not really. And I was going to tell him eventually, when I was ready.

Things were actually kind of perfect at the moment.

Of course, as soon as I thought that, things just had to go wrong.

A soft glow appeared out of the corner of my eye. I groaned. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning. Jesse and I were just getting ready to go inside for bed. We'd already stayed up way too late as it was. We both had to work the next day, and Jesse had to be there at six-thirty. "Seriously?" I muttered. "It's our anniversary! NCDPs are not allowed at my anniversary celebration."

Jesse looked stunned. "Mr. Clarke?" he asked.

I frowned at him. "You know this guy?"

He nodded. "Thomas Clarke is the father of Chloe, the patient we lost to pancreatic cancer."

I looked back at the ghost. He was glaring furiously at my husband.

"Shit."

* * *

 **Sorry that this chapter was a bit shorter. But, here you go. Enjoy!**


	4. Cuatro

**I had fun with this chapter. And it's longer. Yay! Enjoy, my lovelys. Enjoy.**

* * *

I angrily shoved a file into the cabinet. I was pretty miserable and pissed. I hadn't even wanted to come into work this morning – I was still working at the Mission, until our private practice was open. Not only was I still sick, but I hadn't gone to bed until nearly four in the morning. So I was angry, sick, and tired. Not a good combination.

Stupid NCDP.

Mr. Thomas Clarke had been furious. Jesse and I had tried to talk him out of his rage, but he hadn't exactly been talkative. He'd been too busy trying to kill my husband to stop and listen to us.

"Susannah!"

I looked up to see Father Dominic staring at me. Or, more specifically, staring at my face. I did have a nasty bruise on my chin. Thomas had one hell of a right hook. "What in the world happened to your face?"

I scowled. Luckily, Father D. was the only other person in the office at the moment, so I didn't have to worry about anybody else hearing our conversation. I didn't need somebody _else_ not believing my lies. "I had a little run-in with an extremely non-compliant NCDP." But that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh no, what came _after_ the run-in with Thomas was ten times worse than dealing with the actual NCDP.

"You were attacked? By a spirit?"

I sighed and explained, "Thomas Clarke died on Sunday. He got into a car accident and got himself killed. Luckily, everybody in the other car survived. He was driving drunk because he was grieving. His daughter, Chloe, died on Saturday. She had pancreatic cancer."

"How terrible," he said, as he sank into one of the office chairs, wincing. Even though he'd fully healed from his surgery last year, I could tell that his hips were almost always in pain. He moved much slower than he used to, and he tended to use a cane to help him walk. I was kind of surprised that he hadn't retired yet. Then again, he was a stubborn old man. He probably wouldn't actually retire until he died.

I nodded. "It is horrible, especially since she was only six."

"But why would her father attack _you_?"

"Not me. He wanted to kill Jesse. I just got in his way."

Father Dominic looked shocked. "Jesse? Why would he want to kill _Jesse_?"

Jesse was such a good guy, it was hard to imagine anyone wanting him dead – except Paul, but Paul had some serious issues. "Thomas blames Jesse for Chloe's death. Jesse and the cancer specialist who worked with Chloe. They were the two main doctors to work with his daughter, so he's decided that it's their fault she died. He already killed the cancer specialist, Dr. Martin. Jesse had been Chloe's primary care provider before she was diagnosed. As if Jesse doesn't blame _himself_ enough for missing the symptoms. I mean, do you have any idea just how difficult pancreatic cancer is to diagnose in time? It's practically impossible. And I get that Thomas is upset, I really do. I would be, too, if my daughter died. But that didn't give him the right to kill Dr. Martin, or to try to kill my husband."

Jesse and I had both gotten a quite a beating. Jesse had tried talking to Thomas, but the only thing it'd gotten him was a bruised tailbone - Thomas had kicked his stomach and sent him flying across the roof. It had taken us a while to tire him out enough that he left. He was still new at the whole undead thing, so he had no idea just how powerful he could be.

Which was fortunate for us, because I hadn't been sure how much more physical abuse my body could take.

I was sure it was only a matter of time, though, before he figured out all that he was capable of. And then he'd be back. And we'd be in major trouble.

"I think we're going to have to do an exorcism on him," I said.

"Susannah." Father Dom sounded horrified at the suggestion. He hated exorcisms. But I knew I couldn't afford many more beatings like the one I got last night, not without some serious damage. And Father Dominic couldn't take on this guy. The last time he'd tried to reason with an angry ghost, he'd shattered his hip.

"I know," I said with a sigh. "I don't like it, either. But Father Dom, we already tried speaking to him. He's too upset to listen to reason. I honestly think an exorcism is going to be our only option with this one."

He shook his head. "There must be another way," he muttered.

Yeah, right. There wasn't, I was sure of it.

"We'll have to try to think of another solution, Susannah. I don't like the idea of an exorcism. Other than Mr. Clarke's less-than-friendly appearance, how was your weekend? It was your anniversary, wasn't it?"

I just shrugged. No way was I telling Father Dom about what happened after the fight with the NCDP, which was the fact that the cops showed up.

Well, just two cops, partners.

One of whom just happened to be my stepbrother.

Yeah, you read that right. _Brad_ showed up at my house at about two-fifteen in the morning.

Jesse and I had just crawled into bed after our exhausting battle with a member of the undead, when the doorbell rang.

Jesse sighed and started to get out of bed. "No," I told him. "I'll get it. You have to be at work way earlier than me tomorrow."

So I pulled a sweatshirt over my tee-shirt and boxer shorts, and rushed down the stairs. I threw open the door. "What the hell do…" I trailed off when I saw the uniform. "Oh. Officer. What do you…Wait. _Brad_?" I still wasn't quite used to seeing him in a police uniform, and he'd been on the force for several months now.

My stepbrother smiled awkwardly. "Hey, Suze."

"What are you doing here? Aren't you working?"

"Yeah. That's kind of why I'm here, actually. Can we come in?" He gestured to his partner, Officer Troy Packer.

I nodded woodenly and let them inside. We all sat in the front parlor. "What's going on?" I was totally confused.

Brad looked around. "Where's Jesse? We need to talk to him, too."

I frowned. "He's in bed. I'd really rather not go wake him up. He has to work at six-thirty tomorrow, and we didn't exactly get to bed early tonight." I was sure he hadn't fallen asleep yet, but I still didn't want to go bother him. Maybe, if I could keep this conversation quiet enough, he'd be able to fall asleep. "Can't this wait?"

"Not really," Brad said.

"It's all right, Susannah, I'm awake." Jesse came into the room and sat beside me, wincing as he did so. His tailbone was definitely going to be bruised. He was lucky it hadn't been broken. "What is this all about, Brad?"

My stepbrother sighed, exchanging a look with his partner. "Well, we're here for two reasons. Did something happen here earlier tonight? Did you two get into a fight? Maybe somebody stopped by and tried to hurt you guys in any way?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"Mrs. de Silva," Packer said. Yes, I decided to take my husband's last name. It was a little easier that way. Everybody assumed it was my name anyway. And I kind of liked the sound of Susannah de Silva. "We received a phone call from one of your neighbors a little while ago. They said that they heard yelling and banging coming from your house. They were worried that there was some kind of fight happening here, that someone was getting hurt."

I laughed, even though I didn't really find it funny. Damn Thomas Clarke. "That's ridiculous. We're a married couple. We argue. It happens. That doesn't mean that anybody got hurt."

"And the bruise?" Brad nodded at my chin, where Thomas had punched me. Damn. It was already bruising? Brad didn't ask about any of Jesse's bruises, probably because Jesse hadn't gotten punched anywhere as noticeable as the face.

"Brad. You lived with me for how long? I'm a klutz." I really wasn't, but since my family didn't know about the ghosts, that was the most logical explanation for all the injuries I'd sustained over the years.

The look he gave me said that he didn't fully believe me. When had Brad gotten to the point that he didn't believe my excuses? Was he actually...getting smarter? Whoa.

"You said there were two reasons. What was the other reason?" I asked.

"There were two deaths at the hospital where you work, Mr. de Silva," Packer explained. "Thomas Clarke had been involved in a car accident earlier today. He was heavily intoxicated when the ambulance brought him in. We understand that he had a daughter who recently died from cancer?"

Jesse nodded. "Chloe Clarke. She died on Saturday."

Packer nodded. "Mr. Clarke died only minutes after being brought in. His injuries were rather extensive. Merely half an hour later, the cancer specialist who cared for his daughter, Dr. Martin, was found dead in a rarely used storage room of the hospital. We believe he'd been murdered, by Mr. Clarke."

"But you found his body after Mr. Clarke died," I pointed out.

"Yes, but the time of death was fifty minutes _before_ the accident that killed Mr. Clarke. We believe he blamed Dr. Martin for his daughter's death, and killed him for it. We were on our way here when we got the call from your neighbor."

That didn't surprise me, actually. He had tried to kill Jesse almost as soon as he'd become a ghost. But there was something I didn't understand. "So why did you have to rush over here in the middle of the night to tell us? It sounds like a pretty straight-forward case."

"Suze," Brad said. "His car had your address programmed into the GPS when he got into the accident. We think he was going to try to kill Jesse, too."

I stared at Brad. It wasn't that I didn't believe him – I knew for a fact that Thomas Clarke wanted to kill Jesse – I just wasn't sure why the police were so worried. As far as they knew, Thomas was no longer a threat since he was dead. They had no idea that he could still harm people.

"Jesse was Chloe's physician, wasn't he?" Brad asked gently.

"I was," Jesse whispered. "Mr. Clarke was very angry with me as well. He also blamed me for Chloe's death."

I shook my head. "But now he's dead, Brad. Are you saying you think he can still try to kill Jesse? From beyond the grave?" I asked sarcastically. I knew that he could, of course. But Brad, as far as I knew, had no clue that ghosts were real. "This isn't an episode of _Ghost Mediator_. Come on, Brad. There's no reason to worry about Jesse."

He shook his head. "Of course we don't think Mr. Clarke can still try to kill Jesse. But we don't know if he had any help, or if he has a friend or family member who would be willing to do it for him." Brad sighed. "Look, Suze, why don't you and I go talk in the kitchen? Troy will stay out here with Jesse."

"But –"

"Come on."

I couldn't exactly argue with him while he was in uniform, even if he was my stepbrother. I mean, I _could_ , but I didn't think it would look good. So I let him steer me into the kitchen.

Once there, he lowered his voice. "Suze, are you all right?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. "What? Yeah. Look, I appreciate your concern, but Mr. Clarke is dead, right? He can't hurt Jesse."

"That's not what I meant."

I was lost. "What?"

"How did you get the bruise? Really?"

"I tripped. I already told you this." Of course, I tripped with a little help from a member of the undead. But Brad didn't need to know that.

He sighed and lowered his voice even more. "Did Jesse hit you? Is he being abusive with you at all?"

I recoiled away from my stepbrother. " _What_?" Was he serious? How could anyone think that _Jesse_ was _beating_ _me_?

"Suze, you can tell me if that's what's going on. I can help. We can get a restraining ord-"

"No!" I couldn't believe this. "Are you serious? How could you even think that he would hurt me? Jesse is not a violent guy." Not towards me, anyway. He could get pretty aggressive when it came to nasty NCDPs, child molesters, and Paul Slater. But never _me_. Even when Jesse was furious with me, he would never hurt me. I couldn't believe that Brad was even suggesting it. I couldn't believe that Brad had even _thought_ it.

"He got arrested for assault last year, Suze."

I shook my head. "That's totally…Paul was being an asshole. He deserved to get beat up. I would have done it myself if Jesse hadn't gotten to it first. But this is _Jesse_ we're talking about, Brad. He would never –"

"You don't have to be afraid. If something's going on, you can tell me. I can –"

I laughed at that. Me? Afraid of Jesse? "No. I'm not afraid, because I have no reason to _be_ afraid. My husband has never hurt me and he never would. I'm just a klutz, Brad. I trip over things. You know that. And, on top of all that, I bruise easily." Again, I didn't. It actually took a lot to bruise me, which is why I was so surprised that I was already bruising from Thomas's punch. But it would be better if Brad thought that I bruised easily. It shouldn't have been that difficult to believe, not after all the times I got bruised up in high school. "It looks way worse than it actually is. Besides, you know that I can hold my own in a fight," I reminded him. He knew better than just about anyone what I was capable of.

"I'd kick Jesse's ass if he ever tried to do anything to me, Brad. But do you honestly think he would?"

Brad sighed. "Not really, no. I can't see Jesse doing anything to you. But I don't believe that you're _that_ big of a klutz, Suze. You honestly expect me to believe that you got a bruise like that just from tripping? You need to tell me what's really going on."

"Nothing. I _am_ that big of a klutz," I told him. Then I went back to the front parlor. Brad and his partner left a while later, promising that there would be a cop watching the house in case Thomas did have any accomplices who might try to hurt Jesse. I tried to talk them out of that, but they wouldn't listen. Finally, we went back to our bed, but it took me quite a while to finally fall asleep after all of that. My nausea hadn't helped, either.

I looked at Father Dominic. He didn't need to know about my weekend drama. So I just said, "Just another weekend. We had a nice dinner to celebrate last night, but nothing fancy or extravagant. I really do think an exorcism is our only choice at this point. Thomas has already killed one person. We need to stop him before he kills anyone else."

Father Dominic shook his head. "I don't like it. An exorcism should be our very _last_ resort. Not –"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, though I knew exactly what he was going to say, because that was when I lost my lunch to the nearest trash can.

* * *

 **I hope you guys are enjoying it. Let me know what you think.**


	5. Cinco

**I'm sorry that it took a little longer to get this chapter up. I like to be more consistent with my updates, which I know is actually pretty unusual for most writers on here. But I tend to write quickly (which may or may be a good thing, I'm not sure).**

* * *

I got sent home. From work. I got sent home from work like I was some little kid. I wasn't even _that_ sick. I'd only thrown up once, and I was feeling fine now. Father Dominic didn't have to send me _home_. I'd tried to argue with him, of course. I thought it was completely ridiculous.

But when he'd threatened to call Jesse, I'd given in. I didn't need Jesse worrying about me again. I'd really rather he didn't find out about the fact that I got sick yet again. He didn't need another excuse to be his overprotective nineteenth-century macho man self.

So now I was at home, resting. At least, I was supposed to be resting. That's what Father Dom had told me to do. Of course I wasn't actually doing that. What I was actually doing was beefing up the house's defenses against evil spirits. At least, the defenses I could beef up. Which, to be honest, wasn't many of them. But I wanted to do whatever I could to keep Thomas out of the house itself.

Then I sat in the front parlor and tried to decide what to do about Thomas. I didn't necessarily expect him to be fit for another attack today, but I also knew that it would be stupid to underestimate him. It wasn't likely that he'd come back, but it was possible. I knew how powerful grieving ghosts could be, when they really put their minds to it.

I wanted to do an exorcism, but I wasn't going to try one on my own, not with the shape my body had been in lately. I mean, I wasn't _completely_ stupid.

I wasn't sure if Jesse would help me with an exorcism this time, though. He felt bad for Thomas. He had a tendency to not do exorcisms if he felt bad for the NCDP.

Don't get me wrong. I felt bad for the guy, too. But Jesse and Dr. Martin weren't all-powerful. They couldn't save every child, no matter how hard they tried - and they tried pretty damn hard. Thomas couldn't bring back his daughter by killing her doctors. Killing them wasn't going to fix what had happened to Chloe. And it wasn't their fault. They had done everything that they could. Despite all the amazing medical advancements that had been made, there were just some things that medicine and science couldn't fix.

I couldn't let him use his anger and grief as an excuse to go on a killing spree.

My cell phone rang, causing me to jump slightly. The theme song from the TV show COPS sounded, telling me that it was Brad calling. It was silly, I knew, but I hadn't been able to resist setting that as his ringtone.

Scowling, I answered it. "What?" I wasn't in the mood for more annoying questions from my stepbrother. I just wanted to figure out a solution for my current problem.

"Father Dominic said you went home sick this morning? This doesn't have anything to do with last night, does it?"

I hit my head against the back of the sofa. "No! It has absolutely nothing to do with last night. Wait, when did you see Father Dominic? When would he have had a chance to even tell you that?"

"Just a few minutes ago. I had to come pick up the triplets from school."

I swore. I'd completely forgotten to arrange a ride for my stepnieces. "I'm sorry. I should have called you earlier."

"No worries. I don't work tonight. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

I was surprised. Brad and I used to hate each other. Now, he seemed genuinely concerned. And last night, he had honestly been worried about me and my safety. This was a new development in our sibling relationship. I wasn't really sure how I felt about it. Yes, I thought of Jake and Brad and David as my family. That didn't mean that I necessarily wanted them worrying over my safety and showing me so much brotherly concern. I was kind of used to it from Jake and David. They'd done that almost immediately. But it was weird from Brad. Really weird.

"It's just a little stomach bug, that's all. Nothing serious. I don't even think I'm contagious." Actually, I was positive that I wasn't contagious.

"I'm glad it's nothing serious. Hey, where's that special program you got the girls enrolled in? I'll just take them there today, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Uh…" I couldn't tell him that _I_ was the special program, or that all the lessons were given at my house. Or that the "special program" had nothing to do with education. Not the normal education that every child received, anyway. It was educational, for mediators. "You know what? Just drop them off here and I'll take them."

I was sure he was questioning my sanity a bit. I was used to that, though. People thinking I was crazy, I mean. It happened all the time. "Suze, you're sick. Is that really the best idea?"

I sighed. "I'm not contagious, seriously. If I was, the girls would already been since I'm the one who usually picks them up after school."

Brad sighed. "That's not what I'm worried about. Are you sure you're feeling up to it? 'Cause I can take them. I just need to know where the place is."

"I got it."

"All right. I'll be there in just a few minutes, then."

We hung up. I leaned my head against the back of the couch. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about the girls. I wasn't really feeling up to doing a whole lesson with them today, so they were going to get a freebie day, which they'd absolutely love. I didn't give them freebie days very often.

Sure enough, Brad and the triplets were there only a few minutes later. Mopsy, Flopsy, and Cottontail raced right past me, heading directly into the kitchen.

"You can get a snack from the fridge," I told them. They cheered at that. Despite the fact that Jesse tried to keep healthy food in this house, I always had a small stash of junk food in the fridge. And the girls knew exactly where to find it.

"Yikes," Brad said, coming in behind the girls. I thought he was talking about the girls getting into sugar, but then I noticed that he was looking at my face. "That looks even worse than it did last night. Are you sure you're okay? And you seriously got that from tripping and falling?"

I nearly snarled at him. "You've got to be freaking kidding me." Only I didn't say _freaking_.

Brad looked toward the kitchen just as I heard the girls gasp. "Aunt Suze said a bad word," Mopsy whispered loudly.

"A really bad word," Flopsy added.

"Can you not swear in front of the girls? Debbie and I don't really want them to learn that kind of language."

I rolled my eyes. It wasn't the first time they'd heard me say it, unfortunately. I was trying to watch my mouth in front of little kids, but I wasn't always successful. "Like you haven't ever slipped up. Please don't tell me you still think Jesse did this to me? You can't honestly believe that he would ever hurt me."

He shook his head. "No. You were right. I can't see Jesse hitting you. It's just…Come on, Suze. You didn't trip."

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth, "I did."

"Suze-"

"Hey, how's Debbie doing?" I interrupted. "Is she feeling any better?"

He scowled at me. "Why do you care? You don't like Debbie. You never have. You're just trying to change the subject, which makes me believe you even less."

I tried my best to look offended, even though he was partially right. I was mostly just trying to change the subject, like he said. But I did care, too. A little. I just didn't normally ask about it. "Okay, just because I really don't like Debbie doesn't mean that I don't care. She's your wife, and she's pregnant with my stepnephew. She's part of my family, Brad. So, yeah, I do care. Have you guys picked out a name yet?"

He shook his head again. "Not even close. We actually had a really easy time picking names for the girls. I don't know why it's so much harder this time."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Good luck. Thanks for getting the triplets today. I'll take them to their class. See you later, Brad." I was sure that I sounded kind of rude and like I was just trying to get rid of him. I pretty much was. "Oh, and you can tell your cop buddy to go home now. Nobody's tried anything. I really don't think they're going to. It's a waste of his time to stay out there."

"It doesn't seem like it, but I'd still feel better if somebody was keeping an eye on the house."

"Brad, please. It makes me uncomfortable having somebody watching my house. Tell him to go home. It's fine."

"If you're sure…"

I smiled. "I am. Jesse and I will be fine. Really."

Brad didn't look entirely convinced, but he said that he would talk to the other cop, and he left. The cop watching our home left right after talking to him.

"Aunt Suze," Cottontail said. "How did you get that bruise on your face? Did a ghost beat you up?"

"Yes. There's a very angry ghost that wants to hurt me and Uncle Jesse. But we'll take care of him. Don't worry. Today, you three get a freebie day. Go pick out a movie to watch." Of course, Jesse and I had a whole movie stash for the girls whenever they came over. They spent the night with us occasionally.

The girls cheered again.


	6. Seis

"It's Tuesday," I said, as I pulled off my shirt.

Jesse, pulling back the covers on the bed, paused to stare at me. "And?"

"We haven't heard or seen Thomas since Sunday night. We hasn't he come after you again?" I didn't understand it. That man was furious. There was no reason that I could think of for him not to come back and try to kill my husband again. No good reason, anyway. It was making me nervous. I felt like I was just sitting around and _waiting_ for something bad to happen. I hated that.

"Don't sound so disappointed, Susannah," he muttered sarcastically. "You should be grateful that he hasn't come back."

"Well, I'm not grateful. And I'm not disappointed, either. I'm worried and I'm nervous. The only reason he wouldn't come back is if he's plotting something. And when a murderer is plotting something, it's never a good thing." I slipped into a night tee as Jesse climbed into bed.

"Susannah, he's probably not strong enough to come back yet."

I rolled my eyes as I got in next to my husband. Of course he wasn't worried about it. "You and I both know we didn't kick his ass that bad. He should have gotten his strength back by now. So where is he?"

"Susannah, you're worrying too much. He isn't a particularly powerful spirit. He may still be regaining his strength."

I didn't believe that, not for a single second. Even if he wasn't a particularly powerful spirit, he'd still had plenty of time to regain his strength. Like I said, we hadn't beaten him that badly. "He might not be powerful, but he's crazy pissed. And you know how quickly pissed off ghosts can rebound. I'm sure he's plotting some kind of revenge."

"I haven't sensed anything of the sort."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Jesse, I love you, but I'm not sure how much stock I want to put in your Spooky-Sense." That was my personal nickname for his freaky ability to sense things from the supernatural world. He didn't understand just how clever that was, having never seen Spider-Man. "That guy was super pissed. There's no way he's not going to come after you again. He's probably cooking up some elaborate scheme to make you suffer."

"The house is protected against evil spirits. The only reason Thomas was able to attack us was because we were on the roof. You don't need to worry so much."

"I'm worried about the _other_ medical personnel who worked with Chloe, not just you. As long as you stay in the house, you're fine. Work will be more dangerous for you, but there's not much we can do about that. You'll just have to extra careful tomorrow. But Thomas has already killed Dr. Martin, and he tried to kill you. He might try to kill some of your other coworkers."

He was shaking his head before I'd finished speaking. "I don't think so. I don't think he knew who most of the nurses who worked with Chloe were. Dr. Martin and I were her main providers. I think his anger is focused only on me, now that Dr. Martin is dead. He doesn't blame anyone else, as far as I know."

"Oh, because _that's_ reassuring," I told him sarcastically. I clapped my hands - we still had those clap-on, clap-off lights that Andy had installed several years ago - to turn off the lights.

He gave me an irritated look. "Susannah, I will be fine. You do not need to worry yourself over this."

I snuggled closer to him. "Jesse, I really think we should do an exorcism, just in case he _does_ decide to go after someone else," I suggested, even though I knew that he wouldn't agree. It seemed like I was the only one who thought an exorcism was the best way to go in this situation. I really hoped I could talk him into it, because I wasn't doing it on my own. I usually had no problems doing exorcisms on my own. Not this time. "He's dangerous. We shouldn't mess around with him. And we definitely shouldn't underestimate him, just because he's not very powerful."

Jesse pressed a kiss to my temple. "The only danger is to me, and I am more than capable of protecting myself. We're not going to perform an exorcism on Thomas."

"But-"

"Susannah. I am not going to exorcise a man who is grieving over the loss of his daughter."

I shook my head. "I really think-"

"Susannah, no," Jesse said firmly. "I will not exorcise him. And I don't want you doing it, either."

"I won't."

He just looked at me.

"What?"

"Promise me, Susannah. Promise me that you will not attempt to exorcise Thomas Clarke."

I tried not to be offended by that. Did he not trust me to keep my word? He felt that he actually needed to make me _promise_? "Hey, I _said_ that I wouldn't, so I won't. I promise. Jeez. What do you take me for?"

He arched an eyebrow – you know, the one with the scar – at me. "A woman who once had an eight-year-old exorcise her, after promising a _priest_ that she wouldn't do exactly that," he countered.

I rolled my eyes. He was going to throw _that_ back in my face? "I was sixteen. I've matured since then."

"I should hope so. Exorcisms are dangerous. And I believe I can get through to Thomas, given time. We don't need to perform an exorcism."

I didn't argue with him. Not because I didn't want to – he and I both knew Thomas Clarke was too far gone to listen to reason – but because I was afraid I'd puke again if I opened my mouth. Great. I'd just gotten comfortable, too. But my stomach was rolling.

"Susannah?" Jesse asked, frowning. It was dark, but I could still see that he was watching me closely. I tried very hard to keep my expression bland and to not give away the fact that I was possibly about to lose all the contents of my stomach. I was pretty sure he wasn't buying it, since he suddenly sighed and shook his head. "You're going to throw up, aren't you?" he asked. He was definitely irritated with me.

I shook my head, breathing deeply. It helped, a little.

"Susannah, if you throw up, I will drag you – kicking and screaming if I must – to the doctor's office."

I smirked, taking another deep breath. I felt safe to talk. "Jesse," I said, acting scandalized. I fanned my face. "Kicking and screaming? I had no idea that you were into that kind of kinky stuff. And at your _office_ , too. That's taking our little game of Doctor to a whole new level. Not that I'm complaining. You know me. I'm up for just about anything."

Now he just looked disgusted. " _Nombre..._ Is that all you ever think about? Sex?"

My smirk widened. "Can you blame me? When I'm married to a man as sexy as you?" I pressed my body tightly against his, tracing designs on his bare chest.

Jesse turned away from me, pulling his side of the covers up to his shoulders. "Goodnight, Susannah."

I sighed. Good thing I hadn't _really_ been trying to seduce him.


	7. Siete

I woke up to someone screaming a steady stream of profanities at our bedroom window. Groaning, I looked at the clock. It was three in the morning. _Three_ in the _morning_! It was way too early for this nonsense. Of course, I knew exactly who it was who was screaming at us. There really was only one person it could be.

Jesse was already getting out of bed and moving toward the window. I scrambled to follow him. "Jesse," I began, but he'd already opened the window and climbed onto the porch roof to talk to the NCDP currently screaming at us. Well, mostly screaming at Jesse.

"Thomas," he said calmly.

I cursed and followed my husband. Why would he go onto the roof? Obviously, Thomas hadn't been able to get inside the house, or he would have done it already. Jesse would be safe inside the house.

But no. He had to be a stupid macho man again.

"Susannah, go back to bed. I'll handle this."

I snorted. "Like hell you will. You can't talk to him, Jesse. He won't listen. Especially since you're only wearing boxers." Not that Thomas would really care what Jesse was wearing - or not wearing. He probably wouldn't even notice. But Jesse was a pretty reserved guy. He wasn't one to go outside in only his boxers, not even to get the mail in the morning. But I knew that he wanted to help Thomas move on as quickly as he could. And he probably honestly thought that he could get through to Thomas.

He ignored me. He did that a lot, though. He just completely tuned me out whenever he wanted to. He was such a man. "Thomas, I know that you're upset. You have every right to be. Your daughter died, and I'm partially responsible for that. There is nothing wrong with you being upset."

"Um, but there is something wrong with him trying to kill people because he's upset," I added. Again, I was ignored.

Thomas didn't say a word. Instead, he launched himself at Jesse, knocking my husband backward a few steps. He raised his fist, ready to punch Jesse.

"Hey!" I yelled, getting his attention. He'd hardly looked in my direction since he'd shown up. He was too focused on Jesse.

Thomas looked at me, and I kicked him in the chest, sending him nearly off the roof. He snarled at me. "Chloe's _dead_ because of him!" I was really glad that nobody could hear him, with all of his screaming, but if we kept this up, one of my neighbors was going to hear all the commotion that Jesse and I were making. Again. If only we could soundproof the roof.

"No," I said gently. "Chloe's dead because she got cancer. That is not my husband's fault. That is not Dr. Martin's fault. They both did everything that they could to save her." I was close enough to him that I could have shifted us both into the shadowland, and we'd be done with all of this. But I didn't, for a couple of reasons.

One, I'd promised Jesse that I wouldn't ever shift unless I absolutely _had_ to, unless my only other option was death. Jesse didn't like how dangerous shifting was, and insisted that I avoid it at all costs. Two, I wasn't sure my body could handle it at the moment. With everything going on, I didn't want to risk it.

So instead, I punched him. I know, I know. Violence was never the answer. But it wasn't like I hadn't tried to reason with him first. "I know you're upset," I said. "I get that, I really do. You love Chloe. She's the world to you. And when she died, you felt like you died, too. It was a tragedy, what happened to your daughter. Anybody would be upset. That's perfectly normal, to grieve for a lost life. But Jesse – and Dr. Martin – _didn't_ _kill_ _her_. They used every resource that they could to try to save her. But in the end, the cancer won. That's all there is to it. The cancer won. You can't blame my husband for that."

Thomas snarled. "Shut up!" he screamed, and then he was launching himself at me.

I didn't have enough time to move out of his way.

"Susannah!"

Next thing I knew, I was on my back on the roof, with Jesse on top of me. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm-"

Jesse went flying.

Straight off the roof.

I heard him hit the ground. "Jesse!" I screamed, scrambling to the edge of the roof. He wasn't moving.

I hurried to the ladder – we'd had to cut down the tree to keep it from destroying the foundation, so we kept a ladder propped against the roof for situations just like this – and climbed down.

As I knelt beside him, I saw that he was still breathing. My pounding heart steadied a tiny bit at that. He was alive. Thank God he was alive. I couldn't even think about what I'd do if he died. "Jesse. Jesse, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Shit.

I ran into the house and quickly called the paramedics. I told them that my husband had fallen off the roof and was currently unconscious in the backyard, which most likely meant that he had at least a moderate concussion, if not a severe one. I also grabbed him a pair of pajama pants. I knew he wouldn't want to be carted off to the hospital in nothing but his boxers. I mean, he worked with the staff there.

Within the next half hour, we got Jesse checked into the hospital. He'd woken up just as I'd returned to the backyard, which was a good thing. He'd tried to argue with me about going to the hospital, but I had a feeling that he'd seriously injured his ribs, so I didn't give in to him. He would have done exactly the same thing had it been me who had fallen off the roof. Once at the hospital, they immediately started doing X-rays to find out the extent of the damage. I knew he was in good hands. This hospital loved him.

The paramedics wanted to know exactly what had happened.

So I told them again, that he fell off the roof. They wanted to know what he was doing on the roof at three in the morning. Because, you know, normal people are asleep at three in the morning, not hanging out on their porch roofs. I explained that our cat, Spike, had gotten himself stuck and cried out for help, so Jesse had gone to rescue the old cat. He'd lost his footing and fallen to the ground. Anybody who knew Jesse well enough would know that he had a major soft spot for that ugly animal.

When it was all said and done, Jesse had a moderate concussion – from the fall – and four fractured ribs – from the asshole who made him fall. They were going to release him at ten.

I managed to get a hold of Father Dom around six to ask for the day off. He went above and beyond and gave me the rest of the week off. Then I called Brad to tell him what was going on, and to try to convince him that the triplets didn't have their regular after-school program today or tomorrow and that it had nothing to do with the fact that my husband had gotten injured. He seemed to buy it, that the two things weren't related in any way. He promised to bring them to the house later – they wanted to wish their Uncle Jesse well.

Jesse wasn't happy. It would take almost six weeks for his ribs to fully heal, and he was forbidden from working for the first two weeks of that. Jesse loved his job, and he hated the idea of sitting around the house, doing nothing, for two weeks.

I wasn't all that happy, either. I was really getting tired of Thomas Clarke. He'd disappeared right after kicking Jesse off the roof, so he probably thought he'd managed to kill my husband. Or he at least thought that he'd injured him pretty bad. But now an exorcism was out of the question, even if Jesse would agree to one. I couldn't do it on my own. Father Dom was no help, at his age. And now Jesse wasn't, either. None of us were in any kind of condition to do an exorcism on our own.

I didn't know what we were going to do.

* * *

 **So you get two chapters tonight. I'm sorry that they're a little shorter. I like my chapters to be a little longer, but I know better than to try to force it. I'd rather have a shorter chapter that's better quality than a longer chapter that's crappy.**


	8. Ocho

I tapped my fingers as I sat in my car and waited. I was early, I knew, but I was glad to get out of the house. I was _more_ than glad to get out of the house. I loved my husband, but he was driving me crazy.

Father Dominic – sweet, naïve, Father Dominic – had insisted that I take the rest of the week off to take care of my injured husband. Well, and to get some rest for myself. Caring for Jesse hadn't been his only reason for giving me the time off. I had actually liked the idea at the beginning. I hadn't been feeling well lately, and work was just another hassle I'd had to deal with. But now I would rather be at work than home. Wednesday had been fine. Jesse hadn't complained at all or asked for much. We'd just spent the day relaxing. Thursday had been a little more tedious. Jesse had been annoyed by the fact that he couldn't go back to work. And his pain made him a little cranky. But still, it hadn't been too bad. But today was miserable. Jesse was doing a lot of complaining today. And I was sick of hearing it. He was bored and in pain and cranky. I didn't want to be anywhere near him for a little while.

So I'd left the house earlier than I needed to in order to pick up my stepnieces.

At least I _had_ a lesson with the girls today. We hadn't had one yesterday or the day before, so I was looking forward to getting us back on schedule. Maybe we would do some kind of field trip, something that would keep me out of the house for a little while longer.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. It was my mom, which I wasn't expecting. Wondering what she wanted, I answered, "Hey, Mom. What's going on?"

"When were you planning to tell me that your husband broke his ribs?"

"Uh…" I hadn't actually been planning to tell her. I'd told Brad, because I kind of had to. And I'd told David, because I genuinely liked him and he could keep a secret. But I hadn't told my mom because I knew she would overreact. "First of all, Mom, he didn't break any ribs. He fractured four of them. But he's fine. Or he will be. Second of all, I didn't tell you because it's not that big of a deal. He didn't actually break anything. And third of all, who _did_ tell you?"

"Jake?"

" _Jake_? How did he know?" I groaned. "Dang it. Brad must have said something to him. Stupid Brad. I _knew_ I should have sworn him to secrecy."

"Well, Andy and I are coming back to Carmel this weekend. We want to help you and Jesse. And I certainly hope that he has learned his lesson about climbing on roofs in the middle of the night. What was he thinking?"

I tried not to panic. Having my parents around while there was a ghost intent on murdering my husband would make things very complicated. And I didn't need things more complicated than they already were. "What? No, Mom. We're fine. You don't need to come here just to help out."

"Suzie, we were planning to visit soon, anyway. We just bumped up the timing a bit. We'll stay with you and Jesse and help out."

"Mom," I said. I really didn't want her staying in my house. I loved my mother, but Thomas had already attacked us twice, at home. I was sure he would do it again, and I definitely didn't need my parents home to witness that. I was having a hard enough time keeping Brad from asking too many questions. "Mom, really. We're good. I appreciate the offer, but-"

"We're already on our way," she interrupted cheerfully.

Oh, she fought dirty. I sighed in defeat. There was no talking her out of it, it seemed. She'd made up her mind, and that was that, apparently. "Fine. Whatever. You can stay with me and Jesse. Will you call him, though? I have something to do with Brad's girls, and I'm not sure what time I'll be home."

I definitely couldn't have a mediator lesson at the house if Mom and Andy were going to show up. I didn't know what time they'd be there. Jesse was bored, so I'd let him take care of the arrangements.

Mediator field trip it was. And I had an idea of what we could do.

"Oh, you mean that after-school program Debbie was talking about? What's it called?"

"Uh…it doesn't really have a name yet. It's just a TAG program. You know, for talented and gifted kids. It's a new program that one of my professors from grad school has put together," I lied. "It's kind of in its trial phase, so there aren't many kids in it. I was really lucky to get the girls in while it's still in this phase."

"That's so good of you, Suzie."

"Yep. Mom, give Jesse a call and let him know what time you'll be there. I'm sure he'll appreciate some company other than me. He doesn't really like not being able to go back to work yet. He doesn't like sitting around the house."

She said that she would, and we hung up just as Mopsy, Flopsy, and Cottontail ran up to my car. They were chattering to each other as they got in.

"Girls, what do you think about us taking a little mediator field trip?"

"Yes!" they exclaimed.

Mopsy got this kind of evil look on her face – it was way too similar to Paul for my comfort. "Do we get to kick some ghost butt, Aunt Suze?"

"Emily, no. We are going to _calmly_ talk to a ghost."

She actually looked disappointed. Jeez. I know I've never backed down from a fight, but I've never enjoyed violence. I would have to teach these three girls better than that. I didn't need them turning out like their biological father.

"Look, girls, you shouldn't always try to beat ghosts up. Violence should not be your first tactic against the dead," I explained. Oh, boy. If only Father Dom could hear me now. I think he'd be proud. "Sometimes, just talking to them works. Not all the time, but sometimes." I wasn't sure if it would in this case. Jesse and I had already tried talking to him. But this time, I had three little girls with me who were about the same age as and looked very similar to his daughter. Maybe that would make a difference. I was really hoping that it would.

"What if the ghost beats you up first?" she wanted to know.

"Then you're more than welcome to beat the snot out of the ghost," I told her. "Because if the ghost tries to beat you up first, then you have the right to defend yourself. And I don't want you to feel bad about it, _if_ you're using self-defense. Remember, ghosts are already dead. You can only hurt them so much. But they can hurt you really bad. Do you girls understand? If your life is in danger, you have my permission to do everything that you can to keep yourselves alive. Most ghosts are pretty decent. Some of them can be very dangerous."

The girls nodded, pretty sober for once. I was glad. That meant that they understood the importance of what I was saying. I didn't want to scare them, but I also needed to make sure that they understood the reality of the abilities they'd been given.


	9. Nueve

It took me a while to find Thomas. There wasn't a grave for him or us to visit yet – the funeral and burial for himself and Chloe wasn't until the next day. He wasn't at the hospital where his daughter had died, though I hadn't really expected him to be. I was sure he wouldn't want to relive the pain of the memories that the hospital brought to him, but I checked there, anyway. Sure enough, he wasn't there. I knew he wasn't back at my house, or Jesse would have said something to me.

I finally found him in the backyard of his own house, sitting on a swing attached to a child's playset. There'd been a NO TRESPASSING sign out front, but when had that ever stopped me? The girls thought it was pretty exciting, to be sneaking around somewhere they knew they weren't allowed. I made sure to tell them that they were only allowed to sneak into places like this if they were dealing with ghosts, and they had to be with me to do it. At least until they were about fourteen or so - which was older than when I'd started sneaking around on my own. Then they could do it on their own. I mean, I couldn't go along with them every time they had to deal with an NCDP. Eventually, they would have to learn to do it on their own, which was kind of my goal for doing the mediator lessons with them.

"Thomas," I said softly.

He jumped and looked at me. His expression immediately darkened, but he didn't try to attack me. He seemed to hesitate when he saw the three girls with me. That was good. That was a really good sign. Hopefully he wouldn't do anything to me with the triplets there. Besides, his anger wasn't really directed at me. I just got in the way. "What do you want?" he snarled.

I sat on the swing beside him. Mopsy, Flopsy, and Cottontail looked at me for directions on what to do. I had made sure that they understood that the only way they were going to be allowed to participate in this field trip was if they did exactly as I told them to. If they disobeyed even once, they weren't going to get to do another mediator field for a really long time. They didn't like that idea, so they'd promised to behave.

I told them to play for now. I knew they'd be watching me closely to see how I dealt with the NCDP. They didn't get to see me in action very often. I just hoped that it went well, so they could actually learn something.

"We need to talk," I told Thomas. "Without using our fists this time. I don't want any violence. I just want to talk. Let's see if we can get this whole thing taken care of, in a civil matter."

He sighed. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"I can't go away, Thomas. I understand your grief. I know that you're extremely upset. You've lost somebody you love. But now you're trying to take away somebody that _I_ love. And that's not okay."

Thomas clenched his fists. "He killed my daughter. He caused the death of a little girl. He deserves to die."

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "He really didn't kill her, though. Thomas, pancreatic cancer is almost impossible to diagnose in time to do anything about it. Jesse tried. He tried to figure out what was wrong with Chloe. But the symptoms just weren't there for him _to_ diagnose. As soon as the symptoms showed up, he got her the help he could. Unfortunately, that's just the way that this kind of cancer works."

"Shut up. He didn't try hard enough. He didn't care. He killed my little girl, my angel. And I'm going to kill him for it."

I shook my head. "You're being blinded by your grief. If you kill Jesse, you will devastate those three little girls over there. They love their Uncle Jesse. Killing him would destroy them. Killing him will be harmful to all of the patients that he helps on a daily basis. He saves lives, as many as he can. If you kill him, you could be killing several children. Are you really willing to do that?"

"Leave. This is my home, and I don't want you here."

"It's not really your home anymore, Thomas. Because you're dead, too. Just like Chloe. Although Chloe's already moved on, while you're still stuck here. And do you know why?"

"Go away."

I ignored him. It really wasn't that hard to do. I did it all the time. Ignored people, I mean. "Chloe lived a really good life. It was short, but it was good. She didn't have anything to hold her back and keep her trapped here. Your anger is keeping you here, away from Chloe. Thomas, let go of your revenge, and you can be with your daughter again." I wasn't sure if they would end up in the same place or not, but he didn't need to know that. A little white lie shouldn't hurt in this case. If he knew that he would probably end up in hell - and that his daughter certainly wouldn't, if hell was a real place - he would most likely get even more non-compliant than he had been so far.

His scowl deepened. I was pretty sure that I was not getting through to him. Damn it.

"You don't know anything."

Why did every NCDP think I was an amateur? Seriously? "Actually, I do. I'm a mediator. I've been doing this most of my life. Come on. Just let go of your hatred. Then you can be with your daughter again, just like old times."

He glared at me, and I realized I'd said the _wrong_ thing. And there was no fixing it. I couldn't take it back. "It can never be like old times," he said, "because we're _dead_. And I will kill your husband for what he did."

Damn it. I'd lost him.

I leaned in closer to him, narrowing my eyes at him. "If you lay a hand on my husband again, I will give you a fate much worse than death. And believe me, I can do it. Like I said, I'm a mediator."

He glared at me a little while longer, then disappeared.

Sighing, I stood up. He would try again soon, I was sure of it. I hadn't changed his mind about it. But I had a feeling that he wouldn't do anything just yet, not with the funeral just around the corner. Maybe that would distract him long enough to let us figure something out.

"Come on, girls," I called. "Let's get back to my house. Grandma and Grandpa might be there already."

Cottontail narrowed her eyes at me. " _Which_ Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Daddy's parents, stupid," Flopsy said.

"Yeah, why would Mommy's parents be at Aunt Suze and Uncle Jesse's house?" Flopsy pointed out.

"Shut up," Cottontail said.

I sighed. I really didn't want to listen to this. "All three of you, shut up. Get in the car."


	10. Diez

**Yay! Longer chapter. I really like this chapter. I hope that you guys will. I'm not sure if this was the best way to do it, but it was the idea that I had. Let me know what you think. Like I said, I like it. But I'm not sure how you'll feel about it. And thank you so much for all the reviews!**

* * *

I could smell Andy's cooking as soon as I opened the front door, even though he was on the back deck, grilling up some surf and turf for lunch. He must have kept the sliding glass door open. As annoying as it was to have Mom and Andy around with the threat of Thomas showing up anytime, I really appreciated Andy's cooking. Jesse and I usually cooked our meals together – I still wasn't talented in the kitchen – but our meals seemed like fast food compared to Andy's.

"That smells amazing, Andy!" I yelled to him, as Jesse and I sat down on the sofa.

"It'll be ready in about fifteen minutes," he called back.

"Thanks!"

Mom came in from the guest bedroom – ironically, the room she and Andy used to share when the house belonged to them was now our main guest room. "How was the funeral?" she asked.

I sighed, wishing she hadn't said anything. Jesse looked pained. His guilt had only intensified at the service, but he'd insisted on going to pay his respects. I'd gone mostly because I wanted to be there in case Thomas showed up and tried anything. I did want to talk to him, too. But I had a feeling that talking wouldn't do much good. We'd already tried it several times, and had gotten nowhere. And after yesterday's visit, he seemed more furious than ever. I hadn't made anything better when I took the girls to see him. If anything, I'd probably made it worse. Just my luck.

"It was a funeral, Mom. It was sad."

We hadn't seen Thomas there, which had surprised me. I was sure he would show up to the funeral, at least. But he wasn't there at all. At least, as far as I could tell, he wasn't there. Jesse said he thought he'd felt him, but he didn't see him, either. "That's too bad about that poor little girl. How did you know her again?"

"She was one of my patients."

Mom patted his shoulder gently. "I'm so sorry, Jesse. Do either of you need anything?" I shook my head. "I'll go out and help Andy finish up lunch, then. Oh, by the way, Brad is bringing the girls over. They're eating with us. They should be here any minute."

I groaned. This was another reason I didn't particular like her being here. She just kind of...arranged things, without consulting me first. "Mom. You invited Brad to _my_ house without asking me first?"

"Yes, I did. Debbie isn't coming, though. She's not feeling well again, poor girl. This pregnancy is really hard on her."

I sighed as she went out back. I wasn't really looking forward to having a house full of guests, but at least I didn't have to deal with Debbie on top of everything else. "Maybe something I said to Thomas yesterday made an impact on him," I said hopefully, keeping my voice low. I didn't need my mom or Andy hearing this conversation. I didn't really believe what I was saying, but I couldn't help but to hope. "Maybe he has moved on. The funeral might have given him the closure he needed. He might have realized that it would be better to move on and join his daughter rather than hang on to his anger and idea of revenge."

Jesse shook his head. "He was still angry. I don't think he's given up. He still wants to kill me."

"Well, maybe we shouldn't have a big family party out in the backyard. We're completely vulnerable out there."

"You said he didn't attack while you had the triplets with you. I doubt he'll do anything with them here. You don't need to worry. We'll be fine."

I didn't really believe him. It wasn't me that he hated so passionately. It was Jesse. I didn't really think that having the girls here would stop him from trying to kill Jesse. He hated him way too much. He might not have attacked me in front of the girls, but his anger wasn't directed at me. But before I could say anything, the front door opened.

"Aunt Suze! Uncle Jesse!" three voices chorused. And then my stepnieces were jumping onto the sofa with me and Jesse.

Jesse winced as he was jostled, probably aggravating his healing ribs. "Hello," he greeted politely. He was always polite to the girls, even when they were irritating him or causing him pain.

He was going to be a good dad. But I'd known that for a while. Jesse was good at everything he did.

"Food's ready!" Andy yelled.

The triplets took off again, racing each other to the back deck, pushing and yelling as they went. Brad, watching them, shook his head. "You gave them sugar, didn't you?" I asked him.

He shrugged, looking a little bashful. "A little."

"Debbie will kill you if she ever finds out," I warned. I was usually the one who let them have sugar, and I always caught hell for it. If I got caught. Which, to be honest, I hardly ever did. I knew how to get those girls to burn that sugar off. I was working on teaching them self-defense during some of our mediator lessons, so they went home exhausted some days.

"I don't plan on telling her. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"Yeah, until they get home and she notices that they're bouncing off the walls," I said.

Brad scowled at that. He knew I was right. If he didn't want them hyper when he went home, he was going to have to chase them around enough to wear them out. He would never admit that I was right, though. Instead, he followed his daughters out back. After another moment, Jesse and I tagged along and joined the rest of the family in dishing up our plates.

I had just barely gotten my plate when something heavy and solid rammed into me, knocking me to the edge of the deck. The plate, with my food, flew through the air and landed in a mess on the grass.

Thomas Clarke.

"Susannah," my mom exclaimed, which showed just how surprised she was – she never called me by my first name. It had to look pretty strange from her perspective. To her, it would seem like I just randomly pitched forward several feet and fallen onto my back.

I didn't respond, though, because…Well, what would I say? I couldn't explain this one. Thomas had me pinned down, and looked ready to kill me. Why me, you might ask? Why wasn't he trying to kill Jesse, who he blamed for his daughter's death? Why did he go after me first?

I had no answer for that.

"Susannah!" Jesse started moving toward me, ready to rescue me because he was just that kind of guy. He was glaring at Thomas, but he wasn't moving too quickly. I was sure that he didn't want to startle the ghost into hurting me. "Release her, Thomas. Now."

Andy, Brad, and my mom looked totally confused. Great. I had no idea how I was going to explain this one. "Who the hell is Thomas?" Brad demanded.

Mopsy put her little hands on her hips, glaring. "Hey, mister," she said. "Let go of my Aunt Suze."

"Who are you talking to, Emily?" Brad wanted to know.

Thomas _didn't_ let go of me. He looked down at me with hatred. "He killed the most important thing in my world. So I'm going to kill the most important thing in _his_ world. He's going to suffer like I suffered." And then he wrapped his hands around my throat. " _You_."

Oh, lovely. He'd decided to change tactics.

"Don't hurt Aunt Suze!" the triplets yelled, as Thomas began squeezing. I was kicking him, trying to get him off, but it wasn't doing me any good. The girls began running toward the NCDP.

My eyes widened. "Jesse," I choked out, with the little breath I had left. "The girls."

Jesse looked torn. I knew he wanted more than anything to come and help me, but he couldn't risk Mopsy, Flopsy, and Cottontail getting hurt. They were more important. I knew it just about destroyed him to do it, but he reached out and grabbed the girls. He held them against his body, his face distorted in pain as they fought against him. Even with injured ribs and being outnumbered, he was strong enough to keep all three of them back from the fight.

I was still kicking against Thomas, but it didn't faze him. And damn, he had a good grip. My vision was starting to get blurry. I couldn't see my family to read their faces, but that might have been a good thing. I wasn't really sure that I wanted to. They probably thought I was having some kind of seizure or psychotic episode or something.

"Susannah, shift," Jesse told me tensely. "Take him to the shadowland." That told me just how worried about me he was, that he was actually suggesting that I shift. He hated when I went to the shadowland, because he knew just how dangerous it was.

I shook my head, struggling to breath. I couldn't do that. I knew it was the easiest solution, but it was also the most dangerous. And I wouldn't do it. Not this time.

Jesse cursed. Then he began rambling in Spanish. I only understood a few words, enough to know that he was very irritated with me. " _Maldición. Si el desplazamiento salvará su vida, que lo haga! No me importa lo que sus padres piensan. Nos ocuparemos más adelante. Sólo cambiar!_ "

I tried to pull Thomas's fingers off my neck. When that didn't work, I jabbed one finger into each of his eye sockets. He stumbled backward, clutching his eyes. He hadn't been prepared for that. It was a dirty trick, but it worked almost every time. I heard the triplets cheer as I rolled to my hands and knees and gasped for breath. I wanted to throw up, but there wasn't time for that. I fought my nausea. Not now. Please, not now. "Go Aunt Suze!"

"Suze, what is going on?" my mom demanded.

I couldn't answer, not this time. And not just because my throat was still burning from the recent choking. But because Thomas had recovered and kicked me off the deck.

I rolled several feet in the grass.

"Susannah!" Jesse exclaimed.

"Keep the girls back!" I yelled hoarsely. My voice sounded terrible. "I don't want them getting hurt. And I certainly don't need _you_ puncturing a lung. Stay back. I got this."

He snorted, but he kept a hold of the girls and stayed back, even as Thomas lunged at me. I rolled away, barely missing his fist as he tried to break my nose. Or more likely, my entire face. He was pissed. "You say that a lot, Susannah. And then you nearly _die_. Remember Heather?"

"I was sixteen! I was an amateur!"

"Heather? Heather who?" Brad exclaimed. "What the hell is going on? What does Heather have to do with anything? Who is Thomas? Suze, are you crazy? Like, actually crazy?"

"Thomas!" Jesse yelled, ignoring my stepbrother. "Stop this! It's not Susannah that you hate. Leave her alone."

"Who the hell is Thomas?!"

"You're going to suffer like I suffered, _Dr_. de Silva." And then Thomas tackled me.

I could see my mom out of the corner of my eye. She was staring at me. I couldn't worry about her, though. I was fighting to keep Thomas's hands from circling my throat again. We were practically wrestling in the grass, totally ruining my black slip dress. It was brand-new, too! Damn it. "Susannah Simon!" Mom hollered, calling me by my maiden name. "Stop this right now. What are you doing?"

"Susannah, _shift_."

"I _can't_!" I yelled back at Jesse. I ducked a punch from Thomas, then managed to kick him in the chest. He stumbled back several feet.

I could practically hear Jesse gritting his teeth. "Why not?" he demanded. "I would do it, if I had the ability. You're the only one who can shift, Susannah, so do it."

"What are you two _talking_ about?" Andy wanted to know.

"I _can't_ shift, because I'm _pregnant_!"

Jesse's jaw dropped. This wasn't how I'd wanted to tell him about the baby. Granted, I still hadn't decided how I _did_ want to tell him, but this sure as hell wasn't it.

Thomas threw me to the ground, hard. The force of the landing dislocated my shoulder and took my breath away. I saw Thomas running toward me. I was lying on my back, so I just used his momentum against him. I placed my feet against his chest as soon as he was close enough and threw him over my head.

I got to my feet, brushing myself off. I gasped for breath, trying to get myself centered again. Then I heard Jesse yell, "Susannah!" just as something heavy hit my head with a lot of force. If I wasn't a mediator and so tough to kill, it probably would have killed me.

I passed out.

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 **Translation (according to the translate section of ): Damn it. If shifting will save your life, do it! I do not care what your parents think. We will deal with them later. Just shift!**


	11. Once

Ugh. Passing out was the worst. It was worse than crying or throwing up.

I woke up in the hospital, which I was not happy about. I hated hospitals, and I wasn't even injured that badly. My shoulder had been dislocated, but I could tell it had already been popped back into place. I definitely had a concussion – a really bad one – but I didn't think my skull had been fractured or cracked or anything. If I hadn't passed out, I certainly would have argued about being brought here. Damn Thomas. I don't what he'd hit me with, but it had hurt. But it wasn't like this was my first concussion. I knew what to do about it. I would have been fine. I didn't need to be carted off to the hospital.

I looked around. Jesse was seated in a chair to my left, his arms folded over his chest. He was staring out the window. I didn't see any of my family, which wasn't actually reassuring. I knew they would have questions. I was a little surprised they weren't hovering, waiting to ambush me as soon as I woke up. My mom would hound me until I gave her a satisfactory explanation. I still wasn't sure what that would be.

The clock told me it was one-fifty. The sun streaming in through the window told me that it was still daytime, so I'd only been unconscious for thirty minutes or so. That was good. I hadn't spent a lot of time unconscious.

"Where's Thomas?" I asked. That was my biggest concern for the moment. I hadn't seen what happened to him, because I had fallen unconscious.

Jesse looked at me. "He disappeared almost as soon as you fell unconscious. He probably thinks that he killed you. The triplets thought that he had killed you." He rubbed his torso, grimacing. "Emily punched me, trying to get to you. She may have set my recovery time back a week."

I scoffed. Not at the idea that Mopsy punched him - she was one fierce little girl when she wanted to be. She was certainly the most expressive and violent of the three girls. But I was scoffing at the idea that one pesky NCDP could possibly kill me. "Please. That little fight? That was nothing. I've had way worse. I didn't even break any bones."

"No, but I'm sure that you have a severe concussion, based on the fact that you were unconscious for nearly thirty minutes. You're going to be kept overnight for observation."

I immediately objected to that. He knew how much I hated hospitals. "That's totally ridiculous! I _live_ with a doctor. _You_ can observe me over the next twenty-four hours. You know what to look for. I don't need to stay in the hospital overnight."

"I asked them to keep you overnight, Susannah. I don't think Thomas has realized that you're not dead. I'd like to keep it that way. Keeping you here may keep him from realizing that he hasn't actually killed you. As far as I know, he has not visited this hospital since his death. You will be safer here than you will be at the house."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You just like seeing me suffer. You enjoy my torment."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic. That is not it, Susannah, and you know it. But if you're in here, that will give me a chance to exorcise Thomas and end this once and for all. I've tried reasoning with him, and he is obviously not going to listen."

Which was exactly what I'd been telling him this entire time. He would never admit it, though. Jesse never admitted when he was wrong. I shook my head. "No way. I want him exorcised, of course. But you shouldn't take on Thomas by yourself, not with your fractured ribs. Please promise me that you won't do it alone. Please. We'll figure something out, but I don't want you going after him by yourself."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to allow you to help me. Not while you're _pregnant_." He was glaring at me. I gulped. He was angry. Not angry that I was pregnant, I was sure – we both wanted kids – but probably angry that I hadn't told him sooner. At least, I hoped he wasn't angry that I was pregnant. Maybe he was. We hadn't been trying to get pregnant, not just yet. We'd wanted to wait. "How long have you known, Susannah?"

I winced. I didn't want to admit this. It would only make him more angry, I was sure. He didn't like the idea of keeping secrets in a marriage. Even though I'd always told him the truth. Eventually. I was just a little slow about it sometimes. "Um...since the eighth. I took a home test, and then I went to the doctor to find out if the baby was healthy and how far along I was."

He arched a single eyebrow. "And?"

"And what?"

"Is the baby healthy? How far along are you?"

"Oh. Um, the baby's perfectly fine. The doctor didn't see any problems. And I'll be six weeks tomorrow."

"So you've known since the eighth. You've known that you were pregnant for _three_ _weeks_ , and you didn't say anything to me? Not a single word to me about our child? Did you think that I didn't deserve to know? Susannah, we are _married_. We aren't supposed to keep secrets from each other."

I picked at the blanket, not looking at him. "I know, I know. It's just...I was nervous, okay?"

"Nervous about what?"

"About how you'd react. We had wanted to wait until after our practice was well-established before we tried to get pregnant. We weren't planning for kids just yet."

He looked a little thoughtful. The anger seemed to be gone. "I think it would have been better to wait. But we are financially secure now. We can support a baby. I thought you were taking the pill, though?"

I sighed. "Yeah, but you know how much I like my wine." Jesse looked confused, so I explained, "Alcohol can weaken the liver, which makes it hard for the liver to metabolize drugs the right way. That can make birth control less effective. I didn't know that until I saw the doctor to confirm the pregnancy, and she told me that. I'm surprised you didn't know that, _Dr_. de Silva." After all the years that he's spent studying medicine, and I finally knew something that he didn't? That was a first.

He shrugged. "My specialty is pediatrics. I don't prescribe birth control."

"Really? You can see patients until they're eighteen, can't you? You know a lot of kids starting having sex during high school, right? Not everybody has your old-fashioned morals."

"I know that. I also know – though they never admit it to me – that my teenage female patients get their birth control from other sources. They don't like to talk to me about things like that."

I bit my lip, watching him. He had seemed angry at first, when he was accusing me of keeping it a secret for so long, but he didn't really seem angry anymore. That was good. "So you're not mad? About the baby?"

He actually looked surprised by my question. "Of course I'm not mad, Susannah. Yes, it's sooner than we expected, but I'm happy. I…For so many years, I never dreamed that I would be able to have a wife or children. I never thought I could have a family of my own." He turned away from me, but I saw the slight glisten in the corner of his eyes. I was stunned. Absolutely stunned. Jesse never cried. Ever. I think it had a lot to do with his nineteenth-century upbringing. Men in his day weren't really encouraged to show or talk about their feelings. I was working on it with him, but it was still a struggle to get him to talk about how he was feeling. Getting him to say what he just had about never dreaming of having his own family was rare enough.

But to see him cry? That was a first. I don't think I had ever seen him cry, in all the years I'd known him.

"Are you…are you actually crying?"

"No," he said immediately. "It's allergies."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "That's _my_ line. You can't use it." He was always giving me a hard time about using allergies as an excuse, when I didn't even have allergies. He didn't have any, either, so it was just as pathetic when he used that lie.

He tried to glare at me, but his eyes were a little shinier than normal, so it kind of ruined the effect. "Susannah."

I just grinned.

But my grin disappeared with the next thing he said. "Your parents and Brad are in the waiting room, with Emily, Emma, and Elizabeth. They have a lot of questions about what happened today."

I scowled. I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't even want to think about it. It was a disaster. All my hard work at keeping my secret was gone. "What have you told them? Have the triplets said anything?" I'd taught them not to tell anybody about the ghosts, but that didn't mean that they were able to hold out if my mom started asking them questions.

"The girls have promised not to say anything, which is making Brad quite angry. They are ignoring all of his questions and pretending that today never happened. They're quite good at it, actually. They've even seemed to have convinced your mother that they don't know anything. I have barely managed to avoid your mother's questions."

I breathed a sigh of relief. So they didn't know about the ghosts. I could still salvage everything. Somehow.

"Susannah, I think we need to tell them the truth."

I was shaking my head before he'd finished speaking. I knew he was going to suggest that. He'd been suggesting that for several years. "No. I won't do that."

He arched an eyebrow. "Then how do you plan to explain what happened today?"

"I'll think of something. I always do."

"You are a terrible liar. Susannah –"

"Do you want a boy or a girl?" I interrupted. We'd been having this argument over telling my family about our "gifts" for years. I wasn't giving in. My family would never believe me, even after what they just saw. They'd find some other explanation that would make more sense to them, and then they'd think I was crazy for even suggesting that ghosts might be real. So there wasn't any reason for me to argue with Jesse about it. I wasn't going to tell them. It didn't matter what he said, it wasn't happening.

"Susannah –"

"Because I kind of want a boy, but I have a feeling we're going to get a girl. I really do. Your family always had a lot of girls, so I'm not too optimistic about having a boy to start with."

Jesse just sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing with me.

* * *

 **The information about alcohol possibly interfering with birth control…that's according to the internet. I don't know how accurate that is. It sounds reasonable.**


	12. Doce

I was released from the hospital just in time to go to Brad and Debbie's house to celebrate Debbie's twenty-sixth birthday - she was less than two weeks older than I was. We didn't usually have big family get-togethers for birthdays, so I knew this was all just a bit setup, especially since it had been arranged at the last minute. I didn't find out about until right before I got released. I knew they were all going to try to pump me for information about yesterday, and I guess they figured doing it at a family party was the best way to go about it. I'd done pretty well at avoiding their questions – by pretending to be asleep every time somebody came into the room.

I know, I know. That was the cowardly thing to do. But I hadn't really thought of a great excuse yet. The best I'd come up with was that I suffered from seizures, and even I knew that was a weak excuse. It was just as bad as the time I'd claimed to be practicing my tennis swing inside a women's bathroom, when there wasn't a tennis racket anywhere nearby and I wasn't on the tennis team. My family would never believe me about seizures. But it was the best I had so far.

I tried to convince Jesse to let me stay home instead of going to the party. "Debbie hasn't been feeling well," I argued. "Her morning sickness has been worse than mine. She's not going to want all those people in her house. You know Brad only put it together because my mom pressured him into it."

"We're going, Susannah." And that was all he'd say about it, as he signed my discharge papers. We went straight from the hospital to Brad and Debbie's house, which meant that I couldn't lock myself in the bathroom and fake being sick, which was exactly what I'd intended on doing. But, as usual, Jesse knew me too well. I sulked the entire way there.

Mom was watching me closely as I followed my husband into the house. "How are you, Suze? Is your head feeling all right?"

"I'm fine." I didn't tell her that my head was hurting quite a bit. That was normal for severe concussions. I was used to it. It would just worry her even more, which I didn't want. She still didn't know exactly how many concussions I'd received over the years.

"How is the baby?"

A small smile pulled at my lips, completely involuntarily. I was pretty excited about this baby. And now that I wasn't try to keep it a secret anymore, I was even more excited. "The baby is perfectly healthy. She's a strong little girl."

Mom frowned. "Girl? Do you already know the gender? I didn't think you were that far along."

"I'm not. I'm six weeks. But Jesse's family has always had a lot of girls," I explained. "So I'm pretty sure we're having a girl. I mean, Jesse had five younger sisters."

Mom looked at my husband then. "I'm sorry that you don't have any family to share this with."

My parents believed that Jesse had moved to California from Mexico to join the priesthood shortly after his parents and sisters died in a house fire. There was a grain of truth to that story. His parents _had_ moved to California from Mexico, but Jesse had only been two at the time. And his family didn't die in a house fire. Both of his parents, as well as three of his sisters, died of natural causes in their old age. One of his sisters died in a drowning accident, when she was in her mid-twenties. And another sister died of cholera when she was only twelve. She was the youngest of the de Silva girls. But we couldn't tell my parents any of this, because it had happened about a hundred years ago, give or take a few decades. The four older girls had all married and had children of their own, but they weren't de Silvas. And if we'd told my family that Jesse's family was still alive, they would want to meet them, so that was no good. So we'd come up with the house fire cover story, claiming that it had happened while Jesse was preparing to transfer to the Mission Academy.

Jesse smiled very briefly. "Thank you," was all he said. He had accepted the deaths of his family members, but he didn't like to talk about it. It took me about three years to finally get the whole story. Not that I blamed him for not wanting to talk about it, but _three_ _years_?

I knew my mom was dying to talk to me, so I made sure to stick close to Debbie. I was fairly sure that nobody would have said anything to her about the crazy part of the events of yesterday. My guess was that if I stuck with her, nobody would ask me anything. "How are you feeling, Debbie?" I asked, just as we sat down to eat. The meal had probably been just as much of an excuse for Andy to cook for a lot of people as it had been for them to get information out of me. Andy really liked to cook for large crowds. I'd noticed that Debbie had only put a slice of French bread on her plate, much like me. I was feeling a little sick again, so I could only assume she was, too.

Debbie scowled at me. "Oh, wonderful," she muttered sarcastically. Debbie wasn't prone to sarcasm, not like I was, so I knew that meant she was feeling _really_ crappy.

"That bad, huh? I know what you mean. Pregnancy sucks."

"Yeah." For once, we were on the same page on something. That never happened with me and Debbie. "So, you're six weeks? You know that means that our babies are only going to be a few months apart."

"Crazy."

We were quiet, then. We didn't really have anything in common, so conversation had never exactly come easy to us. We just sat there and nibbled on our bread, both trying not to overdo it. I was also doing my best to ignore my mom's subtle hints to go over and talk to her. She really wanted to find out what had happened. And I really wanted to avoid talking about it. I wasn't planning on leaving Debbie's side anytime soon. If it was the only way to keep my mom off my back, then that was what I would do.

Then I made the mistake of going into the kitchen by myself to get a glass of water, right after Debbie excused herself to her bedroom. I couldn't exactly follow her to her room, but I hoped that I could sneak into the kitchen unseen. I wasn't as sneaky as I thought. My mom followed and practically pounced on me. I was cornered.

"Suze, I want you to tell me what happened yesterday."

I sighed. "It was…I had a seizure, Mom. That's all. It happens sometimes."

"Bull," Brad said, standing in the doorway. "Suze, you've never had a seizure before. I don't know what the hell was going on, but it wasn't a seizure. What really happened? It looked liked some kind of...psychotic breakdown."

"It _was_ a seizure. Jeez. Are you trying to call me crazy?"

Brad snorted. "I've kind of always wondered if you were."

I glared at him.

"Susannah, stop lying to me," my mom said. She was angry, really angry. My mom never got angry like that. Not at me.

I wasn't going to tell her. I wasn't. I didn't care if they didn't believe me about the seizures, I was sticking to my story. Because they sure as hell weren't going to believe me about ghosts. I shook my head, opening my mouth to argue.

"Susannah."

I looked up. Jesse and Andy had joined us. Great. At least the triplets weren't in the kitchen, too. I wanted to keep them out of this as much as I could. It would be too difficult to explain exactly where they got _their_ mediator abilities. Although, to be honest, I wasn't exactly sure where my mediator abilities came from. My mom wasn't a mediator. My dad hadn't been one. A distant grandparent was my best guess. And I was extremely grateful that Debbie was in bed. "Susannah, it's time to tell them the truth. They deserve to know."

"No. _No_. Jesse, I won't…I can't…"

He gently took my hands in his. He looked at me with those big brown eyes of his. Damn it. I hated it when he looked at me like that. I usually gave in when he looked at me like that. I was determined not to today, though. "Susannah, I know how hard this is for you. I understand. But we are about to start a family of our own. I think it is time for your family to know." I shook my head again. I wasn't going to do it. I wasn't. I didn't care what he said. I didn't care what his face looked like. I was not going to tell my family that I was a mediator. "Would it be easier if I told them?"

"No!" I protested. "No. Nobody is telling them anything. It was a seizure, Jesse. That's all."

"Suzie," Mom begged, "please tell us. I want to understand. I want to help."

I snorted. "Help. Yeah, sure. You just want to know exactly what kind of delusions I might be having so you can put me in the nuthouse. I can tell that you've already made your mind up. All of you. You think I'm crazy, and that I was having some kind of psychotic episode yesterday. I wasn't. And before any of you can suggest that I go see a therapist about it, I already am. Dr. Jo knows that I'm not crazy, and she knows the truth." It had taken her a little while to come to terms with it, but Dr. Jo totally believed me now.

"Tell me the truth," Mom said.

"I…No." I couldn't do it. I couldn't admit to them that I could see the dead. It was totally unbelievable.

Jesse just gave me a look.

"I can't," I hissed.

"Then let me."

I sighed, closing my eyes. I could feel everybody watching me. I couldn't believe I'd gotten myself into this situation. I just should have told my mom that she couldn't stay with me and Jesse when she came to visit, and then none of this would have happened. I was completely outnumbered. They weren't accepting my made-up excuse. And they weren't going to leave me alone about this, not until I told them the truth or until I admitted what they thought was going on, that I was delusional.

"Fine," I whispered. Maybe – though I wasn't feeling particularly optimistic at the moment – they would believe it if it came from Jesse instead of me.

Yeah, right. They'd think he was just as crazy as I was.

Jesse pressed a kiss to my forehead before turning to my family. He took a deep breath before speaking. I opened my eyes to see their faces. "Susannah – as well as myself – has the ability to communicate with the spirits of those who have died with some sort of unfinished business, the spirits who remain tethered to this world for one reason or another. We can see them. We help them, whenever we can."

My family reacted pretty much as I'd expected. They looked at us like we were completely bonkers. Although Andy…He looked like he might believe it. He had raised David, though, who had always been very adamant about the existence of ghosts. Brad had heard all the same speeches from his younger brother, but…Well, there was a reason I'd nicknamed him Dopey when I first met him.

"We are able to see, hear, and touch ghosts," Jesse continued. "I recently lost a young patient to pancreatic cancer. Her father, Thomas Clarke, blamed me and her cancer doctor for her death. He killed Dr. Martin last week, and then got into his car, drunk, and drove toward our house to try to kill me. He died in an accident, but that didn't stop him. He was the one who bruised Susannah's chin, and fractured my ribs. And he was the one who attacked Susannah yesterday. He decided to try to kill Susannah to make me suffer as he did, when Chloe died."

My family just continued to stare at us.

Groaning, I pulled on Jesse's sleeve. I wanted to get out of there, before I started bawling like a baby. For some reason, it really hurt my feelings that they didn't believe us, even though I knew that they wouldn't. Damn pregnancy hormones. "Let's go. They obviously don't believe it."

"Susannah."

"No, Jesse. I'm not staying. We've told them the truth. We've told them the biggest secret that I've ever had, and they don't believe it. This is exactly why I never said a word. I knew this would happen. They think I'm insane." I didn't give anybody a chance to respond. I stormed out of the house. I couldn't believe I'd given in and let him tell them. What was I thinking? I was never going to be able to face them again, not after this.

At least Mom and Andy were going home tomorrow morning. I'd only have to ignore their concerned looks for one more night, and then I could pretend that everything was normal again.

Well, as normal as things ever were for me.

* * *

 **I'll be honest, this isn't my favorite chapter. I don't know what it is, but I'm not as happy with it as I have been with the others. Her family finally knows the truth.**

 **Oh, and the stuff about Jesse's family? I have no idea if that's even close to what Meg Cabot would have said about them, but that was my take on what might have happened to them.**


	13. Trece

I slammed my pillow into place, still pissed off. My mom and Andy had gotten back to our house only about fifteen minutes after we did. She'd been trying to talk to me ever since then. I'd tried to tune her out as I went around the house, picking up and trying to get everything ready for work the next day. She hadn't exactly made it easy. She told me that she just wanted to help me. She wanted me to be back to my normal self, without all these delusions of seeing ghosts. She didn't say much about helping Jesse, but I knew she was thinking of having both of us committed.

I did hear Andy trying to get her to back off a bit at one point, but she ignored him. Andy would probably believe me over time, but not my mom. Oh, she was never going to believe me.

I'd finally gone out onto the roof to get away from her, and to cool off some steam. I stayed out there until it was time to go to bed. Unfortunately, the time on the roof had only added to my anger, instead of calming me down.

"Susannah."

I ignored my husband.

"Susannah. Stop attempting to murder your pillow and look at me."

I stopped and glared at him, though I knew it wasn't his fault. Well, actually, it kind of was. If he hadn't been so persuasive in getting me to tell them, I never would have said a word. "What?" I snapped.

"They will come to accept it, in time."

I shook my head. "I don't think they will, Jesse. Andy might, but nobody else. Did you see the look on my mom's face? She thinks that we're both totally insane. And Brad. I'm never going to hear the end of it from him. He already thinks I'm crazy, so this just sealed the deal for him. Andy might believe it, eventually. But Mom and Brad never will. You heard them. Mom actually wants to get me into therapy for delusions. She wants to put me into a mental hospital. This is all your fault, you know. I knew I shouldn't have listened to you. You and your damn brown eyes."

Jesse sighed. "Give them time. They may surprise you."

I pursed my lips. "I doubt it. But even if they miraculously did – and I seriously don't believe that will ever happen – but even if they did, they'd never look at me the same."

"Is that such a bad thing?" he asked gently.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Yes, it's a bad thing. I've always just wanted to be normal, Jesse. But I'm not. I'm a freak of nature, okay? And now, because my family knows the truth, if they ever get to a point where they don't think I'm nuts, then they're going to _only_ see me as a freak of nature. So, yes, it's a _terrible_ thing. I can't even pretend to be normal now. I can't believe I actually let you talk me into telling them."

"I see," he said calmly. Oh, shit. When he was calm like that, it usually meant that I was going to feel like either a jerk or an idiot. "And what would you give up to be normal, Susannah?" He was watching me closely, which made me nervous.

I just stared back at him. "What?"

"What would you give up? If you were 'normal,' I would still be dead. We would not be happily married. You would certainly not be pregnant with my baby. Would you sacrifice all of that to be normal? Would that be worth it to you?"

"No! Of course not." How could he even think that? He was the only good thing that had happened to me because of my abilities. I wouldn't give him up for anything. "I just –"

"You cannot have it both ways, Susannah."

I scowled at him, the smug little jerk. "I hate it when you're right." Because he was. Most of the time, I hated being a mediator. I resented it. But if I wasn't able to see the dead - or to travel through time to save them in the first place - then Jesse wouldn't be here, in a physical body. I never would have fallen in love with him. He wouldn't be the amazing doctor that he was. We wouldn't be married. I wouldn't be having his baby. All of those were wonderful things, which I wouldn't have if I wasn't a mediator.

Damn him.

"Your family will come to accept your gift, I'm sure. Don't worry so much. Perhaps we should have also told them the truth about how we met."

I climbed into bed, shaking my head vigorously. Maybe he _was_ insane, if he thought that was a good idea after the reaction we had just for the truth about being a mediator. "No way. They're having a hard enough time accepting the fact that we can converse with the undead on a regular basis. They'd have heart attacks if they knew that you used to _be_ a member of the undead. It's not going to happen, ever, Jesse. That's just way too much for them to process. Hell, I barely even understand it, and I made it happen."

He sighed, but he didn't argue with me – even though I knew he wanted to. I waited until he got into bed next to me before asking, "What are we going to do about Thomas?"

"Nothing tonight. He thinks he's killed you. He won't do anything tonight, I'm sure. As far as I can tell, he seems quite satisfied with himself."

"Oh, so your Spooky-Sense must be tingling."

He gave me a pained look. "I wish you wouldn't call it that, Susannah."

"What else do you want me to call it? Your Freaky Former-Ghost Sixth Sense? Spooky-Sense is easier and much more clever. And it's funnier. The only reason you don't like it is because you don't understand just how funny it is. I really have to get you to watch Spider-Man."

He just shook his head at me, not really understanding how it could be funny. "We'll think of something tomorrow, after your parents leave."

They were leaving at ten, but I would be at work at that time, which I pointed out to my husband. He shrugged. "Then I will think of something tomorrow. You can ask Father Dominic if he has any suggestions."

"You know he'll want to rush out and talk to Thomas. And I'm sorry, but that ghost is not going to listen to anybody. He'd just end up hurting Father D."

Jesse sighed. "I know. Perhaps he will have a different idea. At any rate, we don't need to worry about it tonight."

"But what if he comes back? We should –"

"Go to sleep, Susannah. We will take care of it tomorrow."


	14. Catorce

I was grateful to be back at work Monday morning, mostly because it meant getting away from my needy husband – at least, I _had_ been grateful, right up until the moment that I actually walked into the building and was congratulated by multiple staff members on my pregnancy. Even Sister Ernestine was happy for me and excited about my baby! Then again, ever since Father Francisco's arrest last year, she'd come to like me a lot better. She'd even told me that she would be sad to see me go when mine and Jesse's private practice opened up and I started working there instead of the Academy.

Sister Ernestine. _Sad_ to see _me_ go. It was definitely surreal. Almost this entire year working with Sister Ernestine had been surreal. We actually got along really well now. It kind of freaked me out sometimes.

I had no idea how my coworkers knew about the baby – I'd demanded that everyone keep it quiet for a while, not telling anyone else unless I gave them express permission to do so – until I overheard Father Dominic telling one of the nuns about it at lunch. So at least I knew who'd been spreading it around the school. But how did Father D. find out about my pregnancy? I hadn't even told Jake yet, and he was part of my family. The only people I'd told were those who had been there in my backyard when Thomas attacked.

"Father Dom!" I exclaimed, staring at him in horror when I heard him talking about _my_ unborn child with such unbridled happiness. I never would have expected a priest to get so excited about a baby. Weren't priests supposed to be against the whole process that led to babies? Then again, I hadn't gotten pregnant until after I was already married, so that probably made a big difference in his book. As long as the baby was conceived within the holy bonds of matrimony, priests were probably okay with it.

He looked guiltily at me. "Yes, Susannah?"

"Oh, don't even. You know exactly what you're doing. You can't just go around _telling_ everyone about my baby! I don't want the whole world to know that I'm pregnant. Who told you?"

The nun gratefully slunk away as Father D. and I went into his office. I was sure she didn't want to be anywhere near this conversation. I was a bit famous for my temper sometimes. "Jesse called me Saturday afternoon, shortly after you were checked into the hospital. It was while you were still unconscious." Jesse. Damn him. I should have known he would tell Father Dominic immediately. He told Father Dominic everything. No wonder he'd looked guilty when I'd asked him not to tell anyone. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you asking about the pregnancy, or the concussion?" I narrowed my eyes at him. I had a feeling I knew which one he was asking about, but I wanted to be sure.

"Both, I suppose." He gave me a sheepish grin. "But I must admit that I was mostly asking about your pregnancy."

I sighed. I was going to get these kinds of questions a lot, now that people knew I was pregnant. It was one of the reasons I had wanted to wait to tell people. You couldn't even tell, not by looking at me. I didn't have a baby bump yet. Debbie did, a small one. But she was farther along than I was. I was hoping to not get a bump for a while. Some women went the whole pregnancy without showing at all. I doubted I would be one of those, especially since I'd already gained about two pounds so far, but I really hoped. "I'm fine. My head hurts a little, but nothing major. That's the only side effect I've had from the concussion. As for the pregnancy, my morning sickness is all over the place. It happens at any time of the day or night, not just the morning. I've had a few interesting cravings, and a little bit of heartburn. Other than that, the pregnancy hasn't been very hard yet. But I'm not very far along yet, either. I'm sure it won't be long before I'm extremely uncomfortable."

"Well, I am very happy for you and Jesse. This is wonderful news." He really was happy. The way he'd been talking to that nun about it…Unreal. You'd think he was the grandfather or something.

"Yeah, yeah. It's great. Did Jesse also tell you about what put me in the hospital? Or _who_ put me in the hospital?"

Father Dominic frowned at me. "Are you not excited about your baby, Susannah? Jesse was quite ecstatic when he told me the good news. He could hardly contain himself."

See, now why didn't Jesse ever act ecstatic around me? I was his wife! But no, he had to be all macho and try not to show any emotion. I knew he was ecstatic about the baby. But heaven forbid he let _me_ see that happiness. "Of course I'm excited," I said. "Jesse and I both want kids, and we're ready for it now. But it's still early. We don't even know if it's a girl or a boy. I'm a little more worried about Thomas right now. He's tried to kill Jesse twice, and now he's tried to kill me. He won't listen to us, no matter what we say. He's completely beyond reason. He still tried to kill me, even after I yelled out to everyone that I was pregnant. He's too dangerous. _I_ can't do an exorcism. Well, I probably _could_ , but I'd rather not risk it while I'm pregnant. At least, not on my own. I'm not entirely stupid, even though most people seem to think that I am."

Father D. looked horrified at that thought. "Absolutely not, Susannah. An exorcism is far too dangerous for you. Perhaps I can talk to this Mr. Clarke. I may be able to talk some sense into him."

I stared at him. I'd known that he was going to suggest that, of course, but I still couldn't believe he actually thought it would be a good idea. "No. No way, Father Dom. This has nothing to do with you. He's mad at Jesse, not you. He won't listen to you, even if you are a priest. He didn't seem to have any qualms about killing a pregnant woman in front of three small children, so I doubt he'll care about anything that you say. And I don't want you shattering another hip. This guy will not hesitate to kill you. I –"

My cell phone rang, cutting me off. I pulled it out and answered without paying much attention. I kind of wished I'd just ignored it, as soon as I heard the voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"What do you mean you're pregnant?" Gina demanded into my ear.

Okay, so I hadn't told Gina about the baby – or CeeCee, for that matter. I thought it was only right that Jesse, being the father, should know about his child before anybody else. Of course, that plan had gone down the drain thanks to Thomas. Although, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure when I'd planned on telling my two best friends. But it wasn't just yet. And this was exactly why I hadn't said anything to Jake, because I knew that he would let it slip to Gina.

"Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter who told me. It _should_ have been _you_."

"Who told you, Gina?"

"Jake did."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Who the hell told Jake?"

"Brad did. You're seriously pregnant?"

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. A headache was beginning to form. "Yes. I am. And I swear I'm going to kill Brad when I see him. He promised me that he wouldn't tell anyone. The liar."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted to tell Jesse first, and then things got crazy - as in, undead kind of crazy - like they always do in my life. I've had way too much on my plate to worry about telling people that I'm only six weeks pregnant. It's not even that far along. The baby's only about the size of a pomegranate seed."

I could imagine her rolling her eyes. "Oh, don't try to blame _ghosts_. It would have taken all of two minutes for you to pick up the phone and call me to tell me about this life-changing event of yours. Or, if you were like a _normal_ person, you could get a Facebook account and send me a message through that. Or even a damn text!" I winced. She was extremely irritated with me. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in front of a man who was like a father to me.

I glanced at Father Dominic, who was waiting patiently for me to finish. I was probably going to get in trouble for that small, four-letter word I let slip earlier. He may be kind of old, but Father D. had some amazing ears. "Gina, can we talk about this later? I'm at work, and I'm trying to figure out what to do about my most recent spectral wannabe assassin. I'll call you later."

She snorted. "You will not. I know you better than that. Suze –"

"Bye. I'll talk to you later," I said cheerfully. Then I hung up. I felt a little bad for hanging up on her. She was one of my best friends, and that really wasn't the way to treat a best friend. But I needed to finish talking to Father Dom, and our lunch break would be over soon. If I didn't hang up on her, Gina would go on forever, ranting at me. "Anyway," I said to Father Dominic, placing my feet up on his desk. I crossed them at the ankle, dropping my cell phone into my lap. "You really shouldn't go anywhere near this guy. Thomas Clarke will try to kill you if –"

Elton John's "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" began playing. I had barely even let go of the device! Jeez! "Jesse," I snapped into the phone, "now is really not the best time, which I'm sure you know. What in the world do you want?"

"I'm bored," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "I need something to do."

I wanted to scream, I really did. I couldn't believe he was calling me about this. "Are you serious? You called me at work because you're _bored_? You're bored while we have a murderous ghost on our tails? Damn it, Jesse. Why don't you figure out what we can do about Thomas if you're so damn bored? Which is what I'm _trying_ to do, if people would stop calling me for stupid-ass reasons!"

"Susannah –"

I hung up. And then, for good measure, I turned my phone off.

"Susannah –"

"I know," I interrupted, before Father Dom could start a lecture. I stood and pulled out several coins to drop into the swear jar on my desk once I left his office.


	15. Quince

**Sorry it's been a little while since I've updated. I try to do one chapter a day, and I got behind. Sorry. Anyway, here's the next chapter.**

* * *

I dropped my purse by the front door as soon as I walked into the house. I'd taken the girls back home, making up some excuse to Debbie about why their "class" was cancelled today. I don't even remember what excuse I gave. I was going to have to change their mediator lesson schedule once our private practice opened, which probably meant that I'd have to think of some other excuse, instead of the special program they were supposedly in. But I'd worry about that later. Now was not the time for me to be stressing out about that, too. Luckily, Brad hadn't been there. I hadn't had to worry about trying to avoid any awkward questions from him. He seriously thought I was insane, and I didn't think he was going to be changing his mind on that anytime soon. "Jesse," I called out. "We've come up with a solution, unless you have a better idea. I kind of hope that you do, because to be perfectly honest, our solution kind of sucks. Father –" I broke off when my mom walked out from the kitchen.

I groaned. I couldn't help it. I just had so much going on. I didn't have the energy to keep trying to convince my mom of the truth. I knew she still didn't believe me about the ghosts.

"Suzie –"

"Where's Jesse?" I asked. I wasn't interested in what she had to say. I knew it was terrible of me, but I just couldn't deal with her on top of everything else.

"Upstairs, reading, I think. Suzie, we really need to –"

"To what, Mom? To talk?" I snapped. I was never this rude to my mother, I really wasn't. But I was so ready to be done with everything. "I don't want to talk, Mom. Not until you're willing to at least pretend that you believe me about being a mediator. But I have a feeling that all you're going to do is tell me again that I should get myself some kind of treatment for these delusions that you think I'm having. Honestly, sometimes I wish that that's _all_ they were. I thought you and Andy were flying home today?"

"Andy did. I thought it would be better for me to stay a few more days."

I sighed. She wanted to stay so she could make me sane again. That was her only reasoning behind it. "I'm not crazy. I wish you'd see that."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jesse coming down the stairs. He didn't say anything. I was a little irritated that he hadn't given me a heads up about this. He should have warned me that my mother would still be here when I got home.

"Suzie, it _is_ crazy. Ghosts aren't real. I don't know what happened on Saturday, but it couldn't have been a ghost."

"Why not? Because _you_ couldn't see it?" I exploded. Jesse came to stand beside me, resting his hands on my shoulders. He still didn't say a word, but he was supporting me. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I can see the dead? Do you remember all those times you thought you heard me talking to Dad? I _was_ talking to him. He didn't move on until after we moved out here, Mom."

I noticed that her eyes looked brighter than usual at the mention of Dad. She was trying not to cry. And then, to my absolute horror, I realized that _I_ was tearing up. I wasn't even that sad! I'd accepted the fact that my father had, finally, moved on. I had no reason to cry. And yet, there were tears rolling down my cheeks.

Damn hormones. I hated being pregnant.

"And you even said, at my wedding, that you thought this house might have been haunted. Well, guess what? It was! In fact, I had a ghost haunting my bedroom! Why do you think Max wouldn't go near my room for so long? Animals can sense the dead, and it freaks them out. They won't go anywhere near a ghost."

"Then why did Spike like it in so much in there?" she countered. "If animals don't like ghosts, and your room truly was haunted, Spike would not have liked being in there." Of course my mother, the journalist, would notice that discrepancy.

I rolled my eyes. "Spike is a dumb cat. He likes ghosts, for some strange reason. He's the only animal that I've ever met that does." Jesse glowered at me. He really hated it when anyone insulted his precious pet, even me. Though he didn't usually throw nail polish on my clothes when I did it. He just glared. "What? I've never liked that dumb animal of yours. And he's never liked me."

I really hoped that my mom didn't think too much about the fact that Spike was Jesse's cat, and that I just said that I'd never liked the cat. If she started thinking about it too much, she might piece it together and realize that Jesse had once been a member of the deceased.

"Suze –"

"I'm not lying. I'm not crazy. Ghosts are real. I can see them. And one used to haunt this house. It doesn't anymore, because I did my job as a mediator and helped that ghost." I shook my head, frustrated. "See, I knew this would happen. Even at the age of two, when I saw my first ghost, I _knew_ you wouldn't believe me. So I never said a word to you. I made up ridiculous lies, anything but the truth. Because I knew exactly what would happen, Mom. Well, I finally told you the truth, just like everybody's been wanting me to for all these years, and you want to throw me in the loony bin."

By this time, I was really crying. And I couldn't seem to make the tears stop.

I angrily swiped at my eyes and turned to face Jesse. I was done talking to my mother for now. I wasn't getting anywhere with her. "Father Dominic and I came up with a solution for Thomas. Sort of. It's not really the –"

"Father Dominic?" Mom repeated. She was angry. "He believes this nonsense? And he encourages it?"

I took a deep breath, trying not to snap at her again. "Father Dominic has the same abilities," I told her. "Anyway, Jesse, I can't do an exorcism on –"

"Exorcism!?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, it's fine. I do them all the time."

"Are you in a cult?" she demanded. "Are you doing drugs?"

I didn't know which was worse. The fact that she thought I was insane, or the fact that she thought I was doing drugs or in a cult. "No! Jeez. No. I don't do drugs. That's Jake, remember? Jesse, I can't do an exorcism on my own, not with the baby. Father D. shouldn't do it alone, and neither should you. None of us are in the best shape. But we should be able to do it together. It's not the best option, obviously, but I think it's our only option at this point. If we're all three doing it, it will minimize the risk to any one of us."

He sighed, nodding. I knew he didn't like the idea of an exorcism at all, but now that Thomas had tried to kill me and our unborn child, he was more willing to agree to it this time. "You may be right, Susannah. We've tried talk to him, several times. He's becoming more and more volatile. If I asked you to stay home and let me handle this, would you?" he asked, though I could tell that he wasn't very hopeful. He sounded resigned. He knew me too well.

I grinned slightly. "No way."

He sighed. "I thought that might be the case. Did Father Dominic want to meet us somewhere?"

"The basilica, as usual, at midnight. I have Thomas's picture from his obituary."

"As usual?" my mom questioned. She was looking a little shell-shocked. If I hadn't been in such a terrible mood, I would have had this conversation in another room, away from her prying ears. "What do you mean _as_ _usual_? You are talking about an _exorcism_! There is nothing _usual_ about that."

"Mom, exorcisms _are_ kind of the usual for me. I only use them as a last resort, but this isn't the first time I've done one. Some ghosts can get really nasty, and an exorcism is sometimes the only way to deal with them. Father Dom and Jesse like the Roman Catholic version. Personally, I prefer the Brazilian Voodoo one. But they won't let me do that one anymore."

Jesse rolled his eyes. "It's barbaric, Susannah."

"Whatever. It works, and that's all that really matters. Jesse, I'm going to go sleep for a few hours. I want to be at the basilica by eleven-thirty."

Jesse nodded, so I made my way up the stairs.


	16. Dieceseis

My alarm clock went off at ten-thirty. I woke up alone in the bed, which really didn't surprise me. I was sure that Jesse was already dressed and ready to go. He was definitely more of an early-riser than I was, no matter what time we were rising. There were some days that he had to almost drag me out of bed.

I changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a loose black shirt. They were comfortable and easy to move in, which was always a good idea when dealing with an NCDP. I slipped on my ever handy utility belt, filled with my ghost-busting gear. Jesse and Father Dom disliked my utility belt, but it came in handy. I didn't plan on getting rid of it anytime soon. I probably wouldn't need it tonight, but I wanted to have it just in case.

I headed downstairs, only to find my mother in the kitchen with Jesse. She was dressed in practical jeans and a simple blouse. I narrowed my eyes at her. She was just finishing a cup of coffee. That wasn't a good sign. That meant that she had every intention to be awake for a while. "What are you doing? You should be asleep."

"I'm going with you. Jesse already agreed. If you're going to do something as ridiculous as an exorcism, I want to be there."

I just looked at her. She didn't believe any of it. She probably thought she'd be able to talk some sense into us after we tried an exorcism and nothing happened. Because that's obviously what she was thinking was going to happen. Nothing.

I wish.

I shook my head, pouring myself a cup of coffee. I didn't like the stuff, but Jesse practically lived on it. And I needed something to keep me awake. I don't know if you know this, but pregnancy is pretty exhausting. "Mom, no way. You are _not_ coming with us. It's way too dangerous. Jesse, how could you agree to this?"

"I couldn't talk her out of it, Susannah. I tried." He snatched the cup out of my hand before I could take a sip, and began drinking it. "Not while you're pregnant," was all he said.

I huffed, but I didn't argue with him. I didn't like the taste, anyway. And he was right. I shouldn't be drinking things like coffee. I'd already given up wine - and alcohol in general. I'd been told that one or two glasses here and there wouldn't be bad, but I didn't want to push it. I turned my attention to my mother while my husband finished off the cup of coffee. I had to make her see reason.

"Mom. You can't see or hear or touch the ghost," I argued. She might not have believed in the dangers of an exorcism, but they were still there. Thomas could still hurt her, whether she believed he was there or not. In fact, that could be even more dangerous because she'd never know if he was getting ready to do anything or not. And even though I was angry with her, I would never forgive myself if she got hurt because of me. "You could get hurt if you come."

"If I can't see, hear, or touch the 'ghost,' then he shouldn't be able to do any of those things to me, either. He can't hurt me," she pointed out confidently. And it wasn't an illogical conclusion. Her reasoning was actually very logical.

Too bad the supernatural world wasn't always logical.

I shook my head again. But Jesse answered before I could. "With enough energy and concentration, ghosts can touch living humans. It takes a lot of effort on their part, but it is possible. They also have kinetic abilities. Most ghosts do, at any rate. Thomas could drop part of the ceiling on you, which would be just as effective, if not more so, than him throwing a few punches in your direction."

I gave my mom a grim smile. "Not all of the earthquakes around here are actually earthquakes."

"Regardless, I'm going." Her expression and tone told me that she didn't believe me any more than she had five minutes ago. "I have a few words for Father Dominic as well. I don't appreciate him encouraging your delusions."

I thought about arguing more - I am so totally not delusional. Then I decided against it. My mother was an extraordinarily stubborn person when she put her mind to it. Hello, where do you think I got it from? It sure as hell wasn't my dad. She wouldn't believe anything I said, no matter how times or ways I said it. No, she would need some good, hard proof before she believed it. Maybe it would be good for her to see an actual exorcism. She'd realize that part was real, at least, even if she never saw the ghost.

Besides, it was about time Father D. saw exactly why I hadn't wanted to tell my mother the truth. I was sure she was going to lay into him. I'd always told him that it would be a bad idea. And just like Jesse, he'd been trying to convince me for years that my family would understand.

Bull. I kind of wanted him to see how _understanding_ she was.

"Fine," I said, giving up. I obviously wasn't going to talk her out of it. "Fine, Mom. You can come. Whatever. I just want to get this done and over with so Thomas is finally _out_ of my life."

None of us said a word as Jesse drove us to the basilica. Though my mom looked like she wanted to tell us how crazy we were again. She kept her lips pursed.

To say that Father Dom was surprised to see my mother walk in with us would have been a large understatement.

His blue eyes went wide behind his glasses, and he looked like he wanted to hide the evidence of what he was doing – which was arranging a circle of votive candles in front of the altar. "Uh…Hello, Mrs. Ackerman. It's a…pleasant surprise to see you."

I looked at Jesse. "So you told him about the ghost attack and the baby, but not the fact that we told my family? That part just slipped your mind?" Because it was obvious to me that Father Dom did not know that my mother knew. About us being mediators, I mean.

My husband just shrugged.

"My parents know the truth about my…abilities," I told Father D. "And Brad. Brad knows. They were there when Thomas attacked me, and saw - sort of - the whole thing. So, now they know."

"Susannah, that's wonderful."

I nearly laughed. "It's _not_ wonderful. They don't believe me. They think I'm crazy and that I have delusions. My mom thinks that you've been encouraging these delusions." Oddly enough, she hadn't said anything about Jesse being crazy or him encouraging my delusions.

Father D. looked at my mother, who had her arms crossed and was staring intently at him. He cleared his throat nervously. My mom had that effect on people. It was one of the things that made her such a good journalist. "Oh. Dear. Well, perhaps it would be better for you to wait outside, Mrs. Ackerman. Exorcisms can get –"

"I'm staying."

"Let's just get this over with," I said. I knew there was no way in hell Father Dominic was going to convince my mother to stay outside for this, even if he was a priest. She wanted to witness our craziness with her own eyes. "Here's the picture of Thomas." I set the picture in the center of the circle of candles. "Mom, I want you to stay back. You're not a mediator, so I'm not sure exactly how dangerous this might be for you."

"Susannah," Jesse began, and I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. "Please try to keep yourself out of the way as much as possible, for the sake of the baby."

I nodded. Normally, I would argue with him and insist that I can take care of myself, but I couldn't risk hurting the baby. I'd always had a strong protective instinct when it came to my family, and I wouldn't do anything that could put my baby in danger. I knew I wasn't going to be the best mom in the world. Hell, I was scared to death of screwing up and being a terrible mother. Emotionally, anyway. And I swear, I really was trying to cut back on my cussing. But I wouldn't put my baby in physical danger if I could help it. I could at least do that much. Jesse would make up for my faults in all the other areas of parenting. But this, keeping myself safe to keep the baby safe, was something that only I could do, really. I had every intention of staying back unless I was absolutely needed.

* * *

 **Okay, so we're getting close to the end of this fic. I do have a sequel (partly) planned. I kind of plan to keep doing several of these, until I get tired of them or run out of ideas for them. I do have a name picked out for the baby, but it can be changed if anybody has any ideas they want to throw out that I end up liking better. I won't tell you what Suze and Jesse are having, though, because where's the fun in that?**


	17. Diecisiete

We had the picture on the floor, in the center of the candles that Father Dom had placed in front of the altar rail – just as he'd done when I was sixteen and I'd exorcised myself to get Jesse back. We'd done several exorcisms since then, though only on people who were actually dead, but that was always the one that I always remembered the most clearly.

I led Mom to the back of the chapel as Father Dominic lit the last of the candles. I was going to do as Jesse asked and stay out of the whole thing unless I was absolutely needed.

Father Dominic pulled out his little leather-bound book. He opened it directly to the page we needed – this wasn't our first rodeo. If you dropped that book on the ground, it would naturally open to the exorcism chant.

"Suze, this is insane," Mom whispered to me. She still wasn't happy with my old principal, but she hadn't interfered while we'd been setting up. That was something, at least. Maybe she did believe, a tiny bit, and just didn't want to. If that was the case, then there was hope. I could eventually bring her around. "What kind of…cult are you three part of?"

I rolled my eyes. As if _Father Dominic_ could ever be part of a cult. "It's not a cult, Mom. Just…please. Trust me. If you're going to stay while we do this, then you really need to let us focus on what we're doing. Ghosts don't take too kindly to being exorcised, so this could get ugly and dangerous. I really don't want you getting hurt."

Father D. began swinging his little incense-filled metal ball – I always forgot what that thing was called – releasing a bunch of stinky smoke.

Let me tell you, with my pregnancy-heightened senses, that stuff smelled even worse than usual. It was taking nearly every ounce of my willpower not to hurl.

Father Dom started chanting in Latin.

Mom leaned over and asked, "What is he saying?"

I took a deep breath, still trying not to lose the contents of my stomach. "I don't know. It's Latin. I can't even learn Spanish after years of studying it and having my Latino husband try to teach me. You really think I'm going to know anything in Latin? Now shh. Let them concentrate."

The smoke from Father Dominic's metal ball began to coalesce above the candle circle, creating a tornado of smoke. I knew from personal experience that if you were to look directly up into the center of it, it would look like the night sky.

Mom's eyes widened. I couldn't help but smirk a bit at that. She really hadn't been expecting anything to happen. I asked, "Do you believe me now?"

She didn't say anything. She just shook her head.

In the middle of the candles, a figure began to appear, and he didn't look happy at all. Thomas Clarke.

"What the hell is happening?" he exclaimed. Then he saw Jesse, and his expression became furious. "You!"

He launched himself at my husband, nearly knocking Jesse off his feet.

I cursed. I had kind of figured that this would be his reaction, but it didn't mean that I liked it. "Jesse, get him back in the circle!"

My mom frowned. She looked between me and my husband, who was currently attempting to push Thomas back in the circle. He wasn't succeeding. "Get who back in the circle?"

"Thomas, the ghost."

She sighed. "Oh, Suzie, you don't really expect me to believe –"

"Duck!" I yelled, pushing her down as one of the decorative candelabras flew toward us. It just barely missed us, crashing into the wall behind us. If I hadn't ducked when I did, it probably would have taken my head off.

I looked over, as I stood up and helped my mom to her feet, to see Jesse and Thomas grappling with each other. Mom was frowning, looking in their direction as well. I knew she couldn't see Thomas, but she had to know that Jesse wasn't faking all of that. Thomas was trying his hardest to beat the crap out of my husband. He hadn't landed any punches to his torso, as far as I could, which was good. Jesse didn't need his ribs injured any further. "Jesse!" I yelled. If things didn't turn around soon, I was going to jump in and help.

"Don't even think about it, Susannah! I can handle him!"

Jesse finally managed to shove Thomas back into the circle. He held him there, with Thomas kicking and screaming, until vines of mist reached out from the tornado of smoke and latched onto Thomas's wrists and ankles.

I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Once that smoke got a hold of a ghost, that was it. Thomas wasn't getting out of there.

Jesse staggered backward, holding his ribcage, now that the smoke had a tight grip on our NCDP. I was sure that all that moving around and struggled had cause him quite a bit of pain. Father Dominic was still chanting.

"Damn you!" Thomas screeched, thrashing against his bonds. He wasn't going anywhere, though. That smoke was not letting him go. "Damn you! You killed my daughter!"

Mom gasped. Her eyes were wide. "Oh, my. I…I can see him."

"Really?" I asked, just as the smoke started lifting Thomas in the air. I was surprised that my mom was able to see him. She hadn't been able to before.

Jesse looked sadly at Thomas. "I'm sorry that it ended like this," he said sincerely. He really had wanted to resolve things peacefully. But it wasn't his fault that Thomas wouldn't allow things to end peacefully. It wasn't his fault that Thomas had allowed his grief to cloud his judgment, and his revenge to consume him. "And I am truly sorry that Chloe died."

Thomas disappeared into that hole, and Father Dom stopped his chanting. The tornado whipped itself out of existence, extinguishing the candles in the process.

Silence filled the dark basilica. An awkward, tense silence, one that wasn't helped by the darkness surrounding us.

I turned on the flashlight on my cell phone, bringing back some of the light the candles had provided. "Well," I said, to try to break some of the tension, "that went a lot better than I expected. I didn't have to throw a single punch." I really thought it would go terribly wrong. I was glad it hadn't.

Father Dominic shook his head. Jesse rolled his eyes and muttered in Spanish, " _Increíble. Mi esposa va a enseñar a nuestro hijo a pulverizar a los muertos antes de que él o ella aprende a caminar_."

"Better than you expected? A smoke tornado sucked up a ghost!" My mom's voice nearly broke on the last word. It was very hard to shake her calm, so this wasn't a tone of voice that I heard from very often. I guess witnessing an exorcism was something that could do that.

I nodded. "That's pretty standard for exorcisms. The Brazilian Voodoo version creates red smoke, though."

She looked quite pale. She leaned against the wall, and then slid to the floor. "A candelabra was thrown at your head," she said weakly.

I laughed a little at that, though I knew that I probably shouldn't. It seriously wasn't the first time that had ever happened. "I've had a _head_ thrown at my head. Not during an exorcism, though. I did have part of a roof fall on me during one exorcism," I mused, thinking about all the exorcisms I've performed over the years. "And there was another time that I was nearly crushed by a car. Oh, and then one guy, he threw a pair of dentures at me. That was one crotchety old man."

"Susannah," Jesse said calmly, watching my mother. "I don't think you're helping."

"What? Oh." I rushed to sit next to my mom. I squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"You do this on a regular basis? How often do you get hurt?" she demanded.

I hesitated. I was glad that she finally believed me, but she was not going to like my answer to that question. "Let me put it this way. I'm not clumsy. At all."

She shook her head. I could tell she was finally putting all the pieces together. All those times she'd taken me to the hospital because I'd supposedly tripped and fallen. All the times I had managed to convince her not to take me to the hospital because it really wasn't as serious as she thought. "Mom," I said. If she thought about it too much, she'd panic and then she'd never go home. She could get even worse than Jesse when it came to being overprotective. "I know that it seems totally crazy and dangerous. It can be. But I'm a tough girl. All mediators are tough. I can handle it. And I've got Jesse and Father Dom. We look after each other. So you don't need to worry about me, okay?"

She didn't say anything. I sighed. "All right. Let's get you back to the house. Get some sleep, and we'll talk more tomorrow."

"I want every detail, Susannah," she warned. "Every last detail."

Yeah, she wasn't getting that.

"Eventually," I lied.

* * *

 **Translation (according to the translation section of dictionary . com): Unbelievable. My wife is going to teach our child how to pulverize the dead before he or she learns to walk.**

 **I am going to do one more chapter, and then that's it for this fic. I will be doing a sequel, like I said before. I'm not sure when it will be up, but it shouldn't be too long. Enjoy!**


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